


The Fox is on the Town

by RebaK1tten



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU, Arranged Marriage, Bullying, Canon deaths, Gen, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, I call the Sheriff Andrew, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, NO rape or non-con, Never trust A Fox, Not by Peter, Pack is alive!, Panic Attacks, Peter is the alpha, Peter threatens, Rating will change, Stiles is 17 to start, Stiles is a fox, Underage Drinking, and turns 18, but is a good alpha, stiles is injured, tags to be updated as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-05-06 07:04:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 39,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5407475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebaK1tten/pseuds/RebaK1tten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alpha Peter Hale decides to enforce a contract written years before, that allows the Renard family to stay in their territory, if a member of the family joins the Hale pack.  The surviving family member is Stiles Stilinski.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not give permission for this or any other of my fanfics to be posted anywhere else, including but not limited to GoodReads or Wattpad or any place else.

A long time ago…

The boy tries not to shiver as he stands next to his mother while she gets their clothes where they were stored in a tree. It’s so much warmer in his fur, especially now that winter’s approaching.  He loves his winter coat, soft, dense and bright red. He’s particularly proud of his tail, which gets extra fluffy as winter approaches, with a shot of bright white at the tip.

His mother puts on her sweater and then pulls her hair free in the back, shaking out her long, dark curls. She gathers him into her lap and helps him with his socks and shoes. “Next year, when you start kindergarten, you’ll be old enough to have shoes that tie. What do you think about that?”

“Really?” he asks, looking at the Velcro straps on his shoes, the kind little kids wear. “Promise?”

“Yes, my love, you’re becoming a big boy.” She kisses his head, pulling a small leaf off the back of his head. “Did you have fun on our run today?”

“Yes, Momma! I really liked when we ran by the lake. And did you see me chase the mouse, I nearly caught him this time!” He wiggles until he’s kneeling next to her. “Can Daddy come out for a run with us? He never does, but he’d like it, I bet.”

She smiles and cups a hand around his cheek, rubbing off a smudge of dirt. “Oh, honey, that would be fun, but Daddy can’t run like we do. He can’t shift back and forth; he’s always a man.”

“Always? All the time? Poor Daddy!” His brow crinkles as he concentrates and asks, “Why can’t he change? Can we help fix him?”

“No, honey, there’s nothing to fix. Most people can’t change. Most people wear their people suits all the time.”

He crawls back into her lap and rests his head on her shoulder while he thinks about what she said. “But we’re not the only ones, are we?”

“Of course not, baby. Your grandparents can shift like we can. And your Uncle Ben and Auntie Anne.” She kisses his head as she names their relatives. “Your cousins Carole and Dexter, too.”

“I like Dexter, he’s funny and he plays with me,” the boys says, sighing against his mother’s shoulder.

“You like Carole, too, right?”

He shrugs and says, “I guess so. I just really like Dexter most. He has the prettiest blue eyes, Momma.”

She grins against his forehead and gives him gentle kisses. “Okay, baby, you can like whoever you want to like. It’s up to you, whoever makes you happy.”

“But what about here? Miss Jennifer? Or the Sheriff?”

She shakes her head and says, “No, not your baby sitter or anyone your father works with. They’re all regular people, who don’t shift. I don’t know anyone here, other than our family.”

His mother waits patiently, knowing there’s more questions – there’s always more questions.

He sits back and looks at her, head tilted and asks, “Momma, are there others like us? Not foxes, but others?”

She nods and says, “Yes, there’s a few. There’s wolves for one. But they don’t like to be called shifters, like we do. They’re called werewolves when they can shift from wolf to human.”

His eyes grow big and his mouth hangs open for a moment. “Werewolf? Why do they like that? Shifter is better,” he states, nodding. “We can shift, back and forth. Werewolf sounds like a question.” He raises his arms, palms up and says, “Where wolf?”

She waits until he finishes giggling, finding a tissue to wipe his runny nose. “Yes, funny boy, you’re a laugh a minute. But that’s what they like to be called. They’d call us werefoxes.”

“Are there any here? Do you know any?”

She stops and thinks for a minute, then shakes her head. “I don’t know any personally. There are some werewolves north of us, I know there’s a pack – that’s what a group of werewolves are called – a pack in the Upper Peninsula.  But I don’t know them personally.”

“Are there other were animals? Were dogs or cats? How about squirrels? Were cows?” he asks, and rolls on the ground again, laughing and wheezing out, “Were cow!”

“Now you’re being silly, my love. I don’t think there’s any werecows or dogs or cats.” She holds out a hand and pulls him up, brushing bits of dirt off his bottom. “Come on, we need to get home, I need to put the potatoes into the pot roast. Your father will be home soon and he’ll be hungry.”

“Okay, Momma,” he says and takes her hand, swinging their hands as they walk. “Where else are werewolves? Where wolves?” He giggles and scratches his head.

“You’re getting in the tub when we get home, my little man,” she says. She’s thought about letting his hair grow out from the crew cut, but he’s still at the age where he’s into every bit of grass and shrubs and so more often than not, she has to work to get rid of fleas.

“Okay, Momma, but I was just in the lake,” he says, sighing loudly at the thought of another bath. “Where else are there wolves?”

“There’s a fair number around. We had wolves where my parents grew up in California,” she says, thinking back to the stories she heard growing up. “You’re old enough to start learning about our kind, baby. We have a long history.”

He stops and drops her hand, staring up at her and she sees his eyes flash gold. “Momma, really? I love stories about grandpa and gramma and… you’ll tell me more stories now? Not just stories, but about the really real things?”

“Yes, my love, I’ll tell you everything I know.” She picks him up, and thinks that he’s getting too heavy to carry on her hip. But not quite yet.

He wraps his arms around her, pushing his face into her neck, sniffing at the scent from the woods mixed with the scent that’s purely his mother. “I love you, Momma. We’re the happiest family ever ever ever, right?”

He’s her little fox and she’d do anything for him. “Yes, now let’s go make sure your father has dinner when he gets home,” she says as she unlocks the back door to their house. “Go upstairs and get undressed, I’ll run you a bath.”

“Okay, Momma!” he yells as he runs up the stairs, stripping as he goes.

She shakes her head and smiles as she follows him, bending to pick up his clothes as she goes. Plenty of time to talk later, now she needs to give her son a bath and get ready for dinner.

   


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter's pack is in high school and they tell him of a new kid in school who smells like he's something. So they start to investigate.

Now…

The betas burst into the house, with Scott in the lead. “Hey, where’s Peter?” he calls out, looking around the living room.

“Right here,” he says, walking out of his office. He looks at his pack and puts his phone in his back pocket before he asks, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just something weird happened and we thought we should tell you,” Erica jumps in, pushing in front of Scott, getting close enough so Peter can brush his hand down her arm.

“Tell me what?” Peter asks. He looks towards Derek with an eyebrow raised, asking if he knows what’s going on. From the shrug, he’s in the dark as well.

Isaac sits on the couch and says, “At school today, there’s a new kid who showed up. There’s something about him…”

“He smells like something,” Scott adds. “He’s not a wolf, but he smells like something.” He looks around the room and the other wolves all nod.

“I didn’t smell him myself.” Boyd walks towards the kitchen, gently bumping shoulders with Peter on the way. “He was in class with Scott, though, and I smelled something on Scott.”

Peter walks over to Scott who tilts his head and shuts his eyes as the alpha brushes his nose along the boy’s throat, sniffing quietly. “Old Spice? I guess it’s better than Axe.”

“Here, smell my jacket,” Scott says, turning so arm is closer to Peter. “I bumped into him and that’s when I got the scent. He got nervous, but there’s something else and I don’t know what it is.”

“Hmm.” Peter smells Scott’s shoulder, and tilts his head thinking about the faint smell left on his beta’s sleeve. “Something there, I agree. Not strong enough to tell what.  You have a class with him?”

“Yeah, American Government. He’s new, his first day was today.”

“Anyone else have a class with him?” Peter asks the teens, who are starting to get comfortable in the living room of the pack house. There’s enough seating for everyone, although they’ll often pile on top of each other, just for the comfort of everyone together.

“Lydia has chemistry with him. And I think Danny might have a study hall,” Boyd says, referring to two of the pack members who aren’t with them.

“And he’s in our lunch group,” Erica says. Everyone spins around to look at her, making her shrug and say, “Hey, he was there before I knew he was anyone important! But yeah – new kid, dark hair? Kind of awkward, like?” She demonstrates, waving her hands in the air and pretending to fall out of her chair. “That guy, right?”

“Yeah, that’s the guy! I didn’t see him in lunch today, but maybe we can sit with him tomorrow,” Scott says, grabbing the bag of chips from Isaac. It wouldn’t be Peter’s first choice for an after school snack, but he’s realized that he needs to stock the kitchen with fast, easy things for his pack to eat.

“That’s not a bad idea,” Peter answers, sitting on the arm of the couch next to Derek. “Try not to scare him too badly,” he says, looking over at Erica, who flashes her fangs at him, “but try to get something with his scent.”

“Do you think I should try to check him out?” Derek asks. He’s Peter’s number two, charged with protecting his alpha at all costs. Recently, it hasn’t been necessary, but he’s always willing to throw himself in front of a literal bullet to keep his alpha safe.

“Let’s wait a bit,” Peter answers his nephew. “You are a little obvious around the high school; let’s see what our pack mates can find out.” He smiles at Scott and says, “Good catch, Scott.”

Scott smiles and preens a bit under the praise, ignoring the other teens who instantly start to tease him, whispering, “Good catch, Scott.”

“Are you here for dinner tonight, or just visiting?” Peter asks the group. It’s a school night and sometimes they stay and sometimes they don’t. Generally, their parents are understanding, knowing Peter’s strict enough to keep them safe, and it’s better that they’re with pack than running around the streets.

“Probably,” Erica answers, glancing at Boyd. “We’ve got papers to work on.”

“Me, too,” Scott says. “And I think Allison might come over later.”

“Okay, just let me know how many people are eating here tonight, so I can figure out how much pasta to make.” Peter gives Isaac’s shoulder a squeeze as he passes him, going back into his office for a bit more work before he needs to start dinner. Peter’s the main cook on weeknights, both because he’s the most experienced and also because he doesn’t want to eat pizza every night. There’s always at least someone around to feed and Peter’s happy to have the pack around, as long as he’s not stuck with the dishes.

 

“Hey, cutie, you don’t mind if we sit here, right?” Erica says, as she puts her tray next to Stiles’. She shoves out the chair across from her and Boyd sits down, smiling at Stiles. “I’m Erica and this is Boyd. We’re your friends now.”

“Umm…okay,” Stiles says, looking back and forth between them. “Are you in one of my classes?”

“Nope,” she says brightly. Today she’s wearing a low cut shirt and snug jeans along with mile-high heels, trying to mind Lydia’s suggestion to show either legs or boobs, but you don’t need to show both. “You have government with our friend, Scott and a class with our friend, Lydia. So where you from, new boy?”

“And what’s your name, because she’ll make up stuff that’s only going to get worse,” Boyd says. He unwraps the first of two turkey sandwiches and sets to eating. He doesn’t look up, but Stiles knows he’s paying attention.

“Stiles. Everyone calls me Stiles.”

Erica shrugs and says, “Kind of weird, but okay by me, so where you from, Stiles? Why’d your family move here, Stiles?”

He takes a bite of his sandwich, mostly to give himself a moment to think. “My dad got hired as the sheriff, so we moved here. We used to live outside Phoenix.”

“Your dad’s the sheriff? That’s cool, I guess,” Erica says, and studies him for a long moment. “So is it like a preacher’s kid thing, where you’re wild because you’re rebelling?”

“No, it’s like he’s got an elected office, so it’s not cool if I get in trouble. It could affect him getting reelected,” Stiles answers. He finishes the rest of his sandwich and crumbles up his garbage, sneaking a look at his phone to see if it’s time to go.

“You have time, you haven’t met everyone yet,” Erica says and smiles at another boy approaching their table. “Hey, Danny, this is Stiles. He’s new here and we’re going to be great friends. Right, Stiles?”

“Umm, sure. Nice to meet you,” Stiles says, smiling at Danny.

“So Stiles,” Erica says, leaning towards him and fanning the top of her shirt towards him, “do you like my perfume?”

“Uh, I guess so,” he answers and looks away, glancing to see if Boyd has any reactions to this, since they seem to be a couple.

“Cut it out Erica, maybe he doesn’t actually want to look at your breasts,” Danny says, giving Stiles an eyeroll.

“Everybody wants to look at my breasts, Danny. Well, maybe there’s, what, twenty guys here who don’t?” She stops and studies Stiles again and then asks, “Oh, is that it? Are you one of those guys who doesn’t like girl’s breasts? Because that’s fine, no one cares here. Danny’s gay. He’s like really super gay.”

“Hey, is that necessary?” Danny asks, pushing aside his lunch tray and opening his French book. “Super gay?”

“Well you’re the president of the school’s Gay-Straight Alliance, so I’m gonna stick with pretty darned gay,” Erica answers. “It’s a compliment, Danny.”

“Maybe he’s being polite, not looking down your shirt,” Boyd suggests. “It happens. Some people think that since I’m your boyfriend, it would be impolite to look at your breasts.”

“And maybe people are out when it’s comfortable for them,” Danny says, glancing over at Stiles. “So leave him alone, okay?”

Stiles gathers his books and gets ready to go, saying. “Um, thanks. So this was…something. But I gotta get to my next class.”

“We have to go, too,” Erica says, grabbing her stuff and getting up before Stiles can move. She scratches the back of his hair and says, “We’ll see you later, Stiles.”

Boyd shakes his head and stops by Stiles’ chair, resting his arms on Stiles’ shoulders while he combs his fingers through his hair, using both hands. “There, now you’re better. See you.”

Stiles finger combs his hair back into place and looks at Danny, who is grinning into his book. “What the hell was that?”

Danny shrugs and says, “Your new best friends.”

 

It’s Friday night and no one is worried about homework tonight. They’re sprawled around the living room, debating the movie for the night and what to have for dinner. Friday night is carryout night and Peter doesn’t say anything about the dinner choice on Fridays.

When everyone’s settled down with the carryout trays from the local Indian restaurant, Peter asks, “What did you find out about the new boy?”

“He seems okay,” Boyd says. “Kinda shy, I guess. Or maybe he was just overwhelmed by Erica.”

“Hey, I was charming to him!” she exclaims, showing her teeth. “Maybe Danny can get closer to him, he set off my gaydar.”

Danny looks up briefly from his tablet, multi-tasking between looking at it and eating. “I could, but I don’t have any special werewolf senses. And you shouldn’t push him to come out if he’s not ready, that’s not cool, Erica.”

“But did you find out anything helpful? There was a little scent on Boyd, but you always end up smelling like the entire school by the time you leave there,” Derek says, leaning over and sniffing Kira’s hair before making a face.

“Perhaps you can actually invite him to one of your houses and…” Peter pauses, thinking about what human teenagers might do. “Steal a jacket or book or something he’s touched or worn.”

“This is interesting,” Danny mutters, as he continues his research. “He said his father’s the sheriff here, so that was pretty easy to find. Andrew Stilinski, took over when our last Sheriff died of a massive heart attack. So I searched for him and he was formerly the sheriff in Maricopa County, Arizona.”

Boyd nods and says, “Yeah, he mentioned living outside Phoenix.”

“Right. And it would explain him being less than open about being gay, if he is. Maricopa County is one of the most conservative places in the country,” Danny explains.

“Interesting that his father’s the sheriff,” Peter says and perches on the arm of Danny’s chair, looking over his shoulder.

“Oh, you’re kidding,” Danny mutters and points to the screen for Peter to read.

“What do you have?” Lydia asks, reaching out a hand for him to hand her the tablet. Which he doesn’t.

“I kept looking back with his father’s name to see where else they’ve been. They’ve traveled around a little bit,” Danny answers, looking up. “His name is… I don’t know, maybe he’s Mr. Mxyzptlk?  Something like that, no wonder he goes by Stiles.”

Scott leans forward and says, “And?”

“Patience, please,” Danny says. “Okay, so it’s sad, but his mother died when he was like nine or ten. They started moving around a bit after that. And I found her obituary. Her name was Claudia Renard-Stilinski,” he says grinning.

“No it’s not,” Derek says, looking back and forth from Peter to Danny.

“And? Is that supposed to mean something?” Scott asks.

“That’s not even trying to be subtle,” Isaac says. “I guess it makes sense, I mean, it’s a familiar smell, but not quite…”

“What? What are you guys talking about?” Kira asks, looking to see if Scott understands.

“And that’s why you should take French instead of Spanish,” Lydia says, leaning back and smiling at Isaac.

“Or you could learn more than one language,” Derek says.

“What is it? Does her name mean something?” Scott asks again.

“It’s French,” Peter says, rubbing Danny’s shoulder for a moment, and handing him the remote. He’s earned picking out the movie for the evening. “In French, her maiden name is fox. I think our new resident may be a werefox.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott and Stiles hang out. Stiles officially meets the pack.

The plan’s pretty straight forward. Scott’s probably the least threatening person in the pack – he may be the least threatening person on the planet – so he’ll ask Stiles to come over to his house and they’ll hang out for a while. And at some point, he’ll steal something from Stiles so Peter can get a better scent.

“Borrow, right?” Scott asks. “I mean, if he’s harmless, I don’t want him to think that we’re a bunch of thieves. I can give it back later? Whatever it is?”

The pack’s sitting at the house, trying to determine what to do next to find out about the new arrival in Hale territory. If he is a werefox, why is he here and why hasn’t his father introduced them? “I’m not suggesting you steal his car, Scott. Just a glove or hat or something,” Peter answers the anxious beta. “And yes, you can give it back. Tell him you found it at your house or whatever. After we figure out who he is and why he’s here.”

Scott perks up, smiling broadly at his alpha. “Maybe we can become friends? You can’t have too many friends, right?”

“I hope you’ll all become friends. Once we’re sure he’s not an enemy.”

 

Scott throws open his front door just as the doorbell rings. Of course he heard Stiles’ jeep drive up, parking on the street in front of the house, but it freaks out people when you open the door too early. “Hey, glad you’re here!” he says, giving an enthusiastic smile. He keeps himself from hugging, but it’s close.

“Thanks for inviting me,” Stiles responds, looking around the living room as he enters. “Your mom doesn’t mind you having people over on a school night?”

“Nah, as long as I’ve got my homework done and you leave before three a.m. she’s fine,” Scott responds. “That’s a joke, of course. I’d get in trouble if you stayed too late, I just meant…”

“Got it,” Stiles responds and uses his teeth to help pull off a glove, shoving it into his pocket and then pulling off the other.

“Wow, you’re really bundled up. It’s only November, it’s not even cold yet.” Scott takes his coat and hangs it on the coat rack by the door. “Wait until January, that’s when it gets cold – or at least California cold. We might get one snow storm a year, and even then, it hardly ever sticks.” He can’t help sounding a little sad; it would be awesome to have a white Christmas.

“Well, don’t forget I’m not used to this climate yet. It’s in the mid-70s in Phoenix now and I guess I’ve got thin blood. Or that’s what my dad says it is.” He stands in the living room, waiting for Scott to invite him to sit down or go upstairs or whatever the plan is. Scott just suggested video games and junk food and that sounded a lot better than homework and watching television alone while his dad works.

“Well you better toughen up then. Go on, sit down, how about a bit of Mario?” Scott says, pulling out the game and his phone at the same time. “I’ll order a pizza and we’ll break when it gets here. Extra-large, double meat, double cheese. That work?”

“Sure!” Stiles says, relaxing for the first time since he’s been in Beacon Hills. “This could be the start of a beautiful friendship.”

 

At first, Stiles isn’t sure if Scott’s letting him win or if he’s just a really bad player. A few games in, after they demolish the pizza, he’s determined that Scott is just bad. But he’s happily bad, trash talking one minute and then praising Stiles every time he wins. “God, you’re adorable. I’m actually starting to feel kinda guilty about kicking your ass.”

“Well, hold that thought, because I am so winning this next one and…oops. I guess I didn’t see that coming,” Scott says, scratching his head, and watching as Stiles beats him again.

Stiles pats him on the leg and pulls a string of cheese from Scott’s hair. “You are too cute, and I mean this in a strictly bro-way, but how could people not love you?”

Scott blushes and says, “Aww, that’s nice, I guess. That’s what Peter says about me, too.”

Stiles thinks about all the people he’s met at school, and Scott’s circle of grabby friends. He doesn’t remember a Peter, but he’s met a lot of people in a short amount of time. “Who’s Peter, what class is he in?”

“Oh, he’s not at school, he’s a friend of ours. He’s an older guy.”

Maybe it’s from being the sheriff’s son, but alarm bells go off in Stiles’ head. “Older guy? Where do you know him from?”

Scott’s smile falters briefly and he says, “He’s like…a youth counselor… sort of.”

“Oh, that’s clear enough,” Stiles says frowning. “So he doesn’t have a favorite that he maybe, watches gladiator movies with, does he?”

“Gladiator movies? No.” Scott thinks for a minute and then smiles his sunny smile and says, “Danny wanted to watch Spartacus and so we marathoned that over a couple of weekends. I thought it was kinda bloody, but he liked it. So did Kira, you know, Kira, my girlfriend?”

Stiles has noticed that the mention of Kira makes Scott’s eyes go blurry and he gets a dumb look on his face. “Yeah, she’s really sweet. So Peter have a favorite with you guys? Or girls?” Generally, someone who would prey on a teenager would have a preference between males and females.

“I don’t really think so,” Scott says. He’s chewing on the inside of his cheek, deep in thought. “He kind of finds good stuff in everyone, that’s what’s cool about him. He might favor Erica a little, but I think that’s because…well, she can be kind of a b-i-t-c-h and really, he can be, too.”

“Terrific. I guess as long as you guys all feel safe around him and he doesn’t do anything weird or creepy…”

Scott turns to him, eyes huge and says, “Oh, no, man, it’s not like that at all! He’s met all our parents and he’s totally trustworthy. I trust him with my life, Stiles. Literally.”

“Good. Sorry to be so pushy, but…”

Scott nods and punches Stiles in the arm and grins. Stiles grins back and shrugs. It’s enough and the conversation is over.

“Oh, hey,” Stiles says, looking at the clock on the DVD player. “I gotta go, sorry. I’ve got a few things I need to do tonight still.”

“Sure. Thanks for coming over,” Scott answers. “It is getting kinda late and yuck, school tomorrow.” It’s actually only a little after nine, but Scott doesn’t know what kind of stuff Stiles has to do. And maybe having a sheriff as a father, means you have to be in early or something.

“Yeah. And I usually make my dad’s lunch in the evening so he doesn’t skip lunch or eat crap from the vending machines at work. At least I know he’ll get one healthy meal,” Stiles explains as he pulls on his coat, zipping it up to his neck.

“That’s nice of you,” Scott says, nodding back. “Sometimes I bring my mom dinner at the hospital, because she gets so involved with work, she’ll forget to break for food.”

“Maybe we can do a food run together some night and feed them both,” Stiles says, while digging in his coat pockets. “Hey, do you see a glove around here?”

Scott glances around the front door and quickly says, “No. Did you have it when you came in?  I don’t remember you wearing gloves.”

Stiles digs through his pockets again and checks around the coat rack. “I’m pretty sure I had them. Weren’t you making fun of me about them?”

“Your coat, yeah, cause it’s like a ski jacket, but I don’t remember gloves. Did you drop it in the jeep?” He tries to keep a concerned look on his face, and hopes that if Stiles is a werefox that he can’t hear his heart beat racing. He’s always been a bad liar and _hates_ lying to his new friend. And he’d really like to be friends with Stiles.

“Maybe, I’ll check…” he says, and looks around one more time. “I’m sure I’ll find it, probably after I buy a new pair. I’m sure they sell gloves here.” He finishes zipping up and gives Scott a smiles and pat on the arm. “This was fun, I hope we can do it again.”

“It was, dude, too much fun! And yeah, we’ll definitely do it again!” Scott says, and watches Stiles get into his jeep. He sees him checking around the front seat and the floor, probably for the missing glove. After he drives away, Scott shuts the door and flops down on the couch, pulling the glove out from under the couch cushion, where he hid it when Stiles went to the bathroom. He pulls out his phone and texts “I have a glove, will bring it tomorrow.” And then he cleans up so his mom doesn’t see a mess when she comes home. After that he goes to bed, trying not to feel too guilty.

 

This is new, this isn’t what he’s used to. Stiles has run from predators before, he’s even out run wolves, but these wolves aren’t falling for any of his usual tricks. He’s hidden, he’s gone through streams, he’s run as fast and as hard as he can. Nothing is working and he’s starting to get tired.

His chest is burning and his legs are starting to cramp and if he let himself think for a minute, rather than just act, he might have to acknowledge that he’s scared. These are the biggest wolves he’s seen and they’re acting like they’re all connected to the same brain or something. Normally, he could take off and some would follow with the rest going slightly off until they know where he’s gone. But this group, this pack of five wolves follow him wherever he goes. It’s like he’s running from the wolf version of the Borg. And they’re silent; no howling, nothing that should be directing them, just a pack of wolves following his every move.

He thinks about every trick his mother ever taught him and every move to avoid the predators. He’s dug through moldy leaves and run through the smelliest bushes, but they’re still on his tail, literally. His thoughts run to his father and will he ever find out what happened? His father will report him missing and maybe they’ll find his clothes, but they won’t connect the bits of red fur in the woods to a missing 17 year old. He hopes it won’t hurt.

Suddenly, there’s a man in front of him and Stiles tries to dodge him, but the man reaches for him, faster than any human he’s ever seen. He grabs Stiles by the scruff of his neck and quickly tucks him under his arm, holding Stiles tight against his side. One hand is still on his neck and the other is against his chest, letting Stiles’ legs dangle uselessly.

“One of you grab his clothes from the tree, please,” the man says as they continue walking, past where Stiles hid his clothes when he started running however long ago.

He looks over to see who the man is talking to and it’s Isaac, one of the boys from school. Along with Erica and Boyd. Scott grabs his clothes and looks at the man holding him, his lips held tight. There’s someone else with them that Stiles doesn’t recognize, a slightly older man, with dark hair. All of them naked, just like Stiles would be if he were in his human form. Werewolves. He’s with a werewolf pack and he tries to think what his mother said about getting away, but nothing makes sense now, not with this man (wolf?) holding him so tight.

“Quit wiggling before you hurt yourself,” the man says. “And if you piss on me, I swear I’ll pull your tail off and your spine along with it.”

“Peter…he’s probably just scared,” Scott says, catching up to them. He’s walking on the side away from Stiles and he looks concerned; Stiles isn’t sure if it’s because he’s worried about what Stiles might do or worried for him.

The man (Peter? This is Peter?) snorts quietly and says, “I’m sure he’s scared, but he’s in no danger, not at this point.”

They get to a big house and everyone enters. Peter sets Stiles on the floor, putting his bundle of clothes next to him. “Get dressed, we need to talk.”

Stiles shifts and dresses as quickly as he can. He’s not uncomfortable with nudity in general, but when threatened, clothes do feel like some little bit of protection. As he’s dressing, he glances around, seeing the others pulling on their clothes as well. His so-called friends from school. Danny, Lydia and Kira are there, too; they weren’t wolves like the others, which is interesting.

“Down,” Peter orders and gives Stiles a gentle push on the chest to make him sit on a chair. “So you’re the new boy at school I’ve heard so much about? Calls himself Stiles?”

“Yeah. You’re Peter?” he says, glancing over at Scott, who looks down. He trusted Scott.

“Yes, I’m sorry, I should have introduced myself. I’m Peter Hale, this is my nephew, Derek, and this is the Hale pack’s territory. Where you are, uninvited and unannounced.” Peter looks around the room, smiling at his pack. They’re all sitting quietly behind him watching the conversation, like it’s a television drama.

“I didn’t know this was your territory, I just…”

“You’re a werefox,” Peter interrupts. “And your father didn’t know this is a wolf’s territory?”

“I’m sure he didn’t; he doesn’t think of those things. He’s human, he doesn’t…it’s not important to him,” Stiles says and sighs.

Everyone’s quiet for a moment until Peter says, “Erica, why don’t you and Scott go and get some water and some sodas? You all did well and I’m sure everyone could use a drink after that hard run.” He watches them go into the kitchen before he says, “It’s kind of surprising that a shifter would move to this territory, especially by accident. Hales have had this territory since…”

Peter looks over at Isaac who promptly says, “Since 1922.”

“And the territory covers…”

“Five counties,” both Kira and Lydia say, and then they grin.

Peter smiles back at them and gestures to Scott to give a bottle of water to Stiles. “Yes, we’ve been here a long time. And while there’s been some challenges, this has been Hale territory for a long time. What made your father decide to come here?”

Stiles drinks most of the bottle and wipes his hand across his mouth before he answers. “As far as I know, a job. I mean, my mom’s grandparents lived around here, but that was before she was even born.”

“And today then? What were you doing in the preserve?” Peter asks, sipping from his bottle of Coke.

Stiles answers, “Running. I just wanted to run. Not like I ended up running, but just… you know, sometimes you want to run and I haven’t been able to since we moved here. And the preserve is supposed to be public property, so…”

“Possible,” Danny says, looking up from Stiles’ phone. Stiles inhales sharply, watching someone look through his phone, but doesn’t say anything.

“What do you have there?” Peter asks Danny.

“Well, he’s googled a website that has a map of the preserve that says it’s a state park,” Danny replies, flipping through the phone.

“Yes! Yes, I did that, it’s on the internet!” Stiles shouts, pointing at Danny.

“What else?” Derek asks, moving to look over Danny’s shoulder.

“He’s checked out us. Local news articles about the lacrosse team and the school’s website.”

“Anything on us?” Peter asks, watching Stiles fidget. His heart beat is consistent, faster than the wolves, but it’s not spiking or stuttering.

“I’m not seeing that he looked up Hale,” Danny answers, looking up at Peter and shrugging.

Stiles shakes his head and says, “No, I didn’t. I didn’t know your name until just a few minutes ago. I came here to go for a run. We moved here because my dad got a job here. I didn’t know you’re all werewolves until a few minutes ago.”

“Not all wolves,” Peter says, gesturing to Lydia. “She’s a banshee and Kira here’s a kitsune – kind of a relative, I’d guess?”

“I don’t know, I don’t think so, not really,” Stiles answers. “Japanese fox with all the tails?” Kira gives him a small smile and shrugs.

“No, I suppose not,” Peter says. He stands in front of Stiles and studies him until the boy squirms. A ghost of a smile passes Peter’s lips and hands Stiles back his phone.

“So, umm… can I go? Now you know about me and I know about you and… I’ll stay away from you all at school and not come here and stuff. Okay?”

“I don’t think you need to keep away from us. We are, after all, more alike than we’re different, aren’t we?” Peter sits opposite Stiles, on the edge of the couch. “Tell me, Stiles, when is your father off work for an evening?”

Stiles blinks a couple of times and says, “It’s not always that easy; he can get called into work and then he…”

Peter interrupts, holding up one hand. “Stop. I need to talk with your father. Today is Tuesday. When is his next scheduled day off?”

“Thursday,” Stiles answers sullenly. “He’s scheduled to be off then.”

“Good. Please tell him that Derek and I will be over to talk with him on Thursday night around eight.” Peter’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes when he says, “Please let him know that it’s a good idea if he makes himself available. We do need to talk and I don’t think it’s a conversations we should have at his office.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll tell him,” Stiles says. He freezes as Peter pulls out a leaf that’s tangled in hair and then runs his hand down Stiles’ neck, giving his shoulder a squeeze. It’s scenting and ownership and Stiles knows it.

He escorts Stiles to the front door, giving him a gentle nudge onto the front porch. “Good. Behave yourself until then, little fox,” he says and firmly shuts the door. “And I’m looking forward to Thursday.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter goes to meet with Stiles and his father to discuss the contract. 
> 
>  
> 
> See end notes for info and a little bit of spoilers.

“Do you know what he wants?” Stiles asks. He told his father about the request-that-wasn’t-a-request on Tuesday night and since then he’s getting more and more nervous.

“No, I don’t. Shockingly enough, our alpha doesn’t confide in me,” Lydia says, looking back at their experiment. She made sure they’re sitting together, mostly to satisfy her own curiosity, not his. “I’m not sure what he wants with your father. But I don’t think it’s likely he’s going to try to kick you out of the territory. That’s not like Peter.”

“Here you need to add this,” Stiles says, handing her some powder, which gets him a raised eyebrow in response. “But you already know that, so I’ll just sit here and pretend to take notes. I don’t know how he’d kick us out. I guess he could threaten to kill us if we don’t leave.”

“The Hale pack doesn’t kill humans,” she whispers, taking her own notes. “They’ve protected people in their territory. Maybe he just wants to tell your father that he knows about you and make some rules about when you can be in the preserve. For your own safety.”

“My father hates all that stuff. My mom handled everything like that, or her parents did.”

She glances over at him, and pushes her protective glasses up her nose. “You have other family members who are like you?”

“Yeah, my mom’s brother’s family. And my grandfather. They’re all back east.”  He sighs, thinking about that side of the family. After his mother died, there hasn’t been a lot of contact with the Renards. Cards exchanged around Christmas and for his birthday, but losing Claudia was painful to all of them and the few times Stiles has spoken with them on the phone, it ended up in tears for everyone.

“Hmm. Well, I’m sure Peter knows everything about them by now. He’s very smart, you know.”

“I’ve looked him up, at least as much as I could find,” Stiles says, scrawling notes on the paper in front of him. He’s not even bothering to pretend it has anything to do with their project any longer. Hopefully, Lydia will let him tag along and pretend he helped with the experiment. “Just Google and stuff like that. I know my dad will do a search himself for criminal records and all that.”

Lydia puts down their experiment and turns to Stiles. “And what do you think you learned?”

“There’s a lot of Hale money; it looks like it’s been there for generations.” Stiles scratches his head and shrugs. “But they donate a lot of it, I guess?”

“They do. To schools and the hospital and public parks. I don’t think you or your father will find anything alarming. Were you hoping to?” She asks, one perfectly groomed eyebrow raised.

“No,” Stiles says, crossing his arms and looking out the window. “I just wanted to find _something_.” He watches her continue the experiment, sitting quietly and handing her items when she points to them. “So have you always been a banshee?”

“It’s in my family; my grandmother was one as well,” Lydia says quietly. “I was attacked by a werewolf and it activated my abilities.”

“Wow. Was it someone in the pack?” he whispers back.

It’s always aggravated her that Scott and especially Erica talk about their pack and lives so loudly. Maybe it’s paranoia, but Lydia would like to avoid things like hunters and psychiatric hospitals. So she’s pleased that Stiles can ask questions quietly; but of course he’s a born supernatural, and he was probably taught growing up about the importance of being discreet. “No, it was a couple of years back. There were…issues. You should ask Peter.”

“I might. I will,” he says nodding. “So the banshee thing. Do you like it?”

She turns and stares at him for a moment until he looks away. “Do I like knowing when someone is going to die? No, Stiles, I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all.”

He winces and says, “Sorry, that was a stupid question.”

“Do you like being a werefox?”

“Shifter. It’s…we like to be called shifters,” he whispers back and smiles.  “And yeah, I love it. It’s the best thing in the world.”

Lydia smiles and raises her hand to indicate they’ve finished their project. “Then I’m glad for you. That’s something you have in common with Peter and Derek.”

 

On Thursday, Andrew offers to let Stiles stay home from school if he wants.  It’s tempting, but then he’d only spend the whole day worrying about the “meeting” in the evening. So he goes and learns nothing new from his new friends; whatever Peter has in mind, he hasn’t shared with them.

Andrew’s home on time for once, which would be good if either of them had an appetite for the spaghetti and salad Stiles made for dinner. They both just pick and most of it goes into Tupperware.  At least it’ll be a hot ,lunch for Andrew tomorrow.

“You have no idea what he wants to talk about?” Andrew asks. He’s tried sitting and watching television, but that’s not working. He can’t concentrate on his files from work and it seems that he’s going to wander through the house for the next hour until Peter’s due. Which means he’ll be doing the same thing Stiles is. Although Stiles did take some time earlier in the evening to clean the house, going as far as cleaning the windows with a vinegar and water mix his mother used to use.

Stiles slumps on the couch, running his hand through his hair. “Nope. None of his pack seems to know either. Isaac suggested that Peter might want to put a bell on me so he’ll know where I am, but I think that was just Isaac being an asshole.”

“Language,” his father says automatically, but there’s no heat in it. Stiles is dressed a little better than he normally would be for an evening at home, although Andrew isn’t sure if Peter would recognize it. But his jeans are clean and they’re one of his newer pair and his shirt is a plain maroon hoodie, without any logos or cartoons on it. For Stiles, that’s dressed up. Andrew would like to have his sheriff’s uniform on as something of a security blanket, but knows that’s not appropriate. So he’s also dressed a little better than his usual sweats for an evening of television.

Andrew slumps into his chair and says, “You don’t think he’ll want to…to turn me, do you? Maybe he thinks it’s not appropriate for a human to raise a shifter?”

“Dad, no!” Stiles cries, jumping from the couch to crowd into his father’s chair. “I don’t think he thinks like that, there’s humans in his pack and if he did… No, just no. Nobody thinks that.”

“Some of your mother’s relatives felt that way.” Andrew shrugs and puts an arm around Stiles’ shoulder giving him a clumsy hug. “After your mom passed, there was some suggestions that you’d be better off with them.”

“I’m glad you disagreed with them,” Stiles says quietly, pushing his nose into his dad’s neck. He smells familiar and comfortable and like home.

“Well, they had some weird attitudes. Or maybe it’s just that I thought they were weird attitudes. You know your mom’s family really hated other shifters, they said they were all liars and cheaters. Your grandparents _hated_ werewolves.”

“Hmm, I wonder why. Mom never said anything, at least not that I ever heard,” Stiles says, and moves back to his place on the couch. He checks his phone and they have about fifteen minutes before Peter’s due to arrive.

Andrew chuckles and says, “Your mom didn’t hate anyone, ever. She was always able to see someone else’s side. We had this game we played…” He shakes his head and looks away, swallowing hard.

“Dad? Can you tell me? I like stories about Mom.” His own memories are fading and Andrew’s only recently been getting better about sharing his memories with his son.

“It’s just kind of awful, your mother’s sense of humor…” He grins and shakes his head. “I told her that there’s people in the world who are awful and she always sees the best in everyone and she said that’s how she wants to live her life. So I’d come home and tell her the worst things. I’d come home and say, ‘A man robbed a bank and killed three people.’ And your mom would say, ‘I’m sure it was an accident and he’s sorry.’”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Stiles says, shrugging. It sounds like his mom.

“It got worse from there. I’d say, ‘The planet Zorto is invading and they’re blowing everyone up except the children who they’re making into slaves.’ And she’d say, ‘Well, the blowing up was probably a mistake and they want to take care of the children to apologize.’ Or things that got worse from there. I couldn’t find anything awful enough for her.”

Stiles grins and says, “I can picture that. I guess I didn’t get her sunny disposition.”

“No, I think you’ve had too many years being raised by a cop.” Andrew’s quiet and finally says, “I came home one time and told her something that happened at work. It was something real and it was pretty awful. She thought I was playing the game and said her usual Pollyanna stuff and… I told her it wasn’t a joke, it was real. Later, I hated that I did that, I think I really hurt her; telling her that the world’s not all sunny all the time.”

“Well, whatever Peter wants to talk about, we’ll figure it out. We’ll look at his side and try to get to something that works for everyone.” Stiles gets up and straightens the cushions on the couch once more, checking his hair in a small mirror by the door.

Andrew snorts and says, “You are a bit like your Mom, you know. Hey, maybe Peter’s coming to tell us that he wants to pay off the mortgage on the house?”

“Well, let’s go ahead and try to remain open for something like that.”

 

Peter’s on time (of course) and he and Derek shake hands with Andrew, just like normal people do. Stiles takes their coats and offers them coffee or water and Peter accepts a bottle with a smile.

“Thank you for agreeing to see us tonight, Mr. Stilinski,” Peter says, settling onto one end of the couch. Derek stands behind him, leaning against the wall, in a position that screams body guard.

“I didn’t think I had a choice, Mr. Hale,” he answers, tight smile on his face.

Peter shrugs slightly and says, “Thank you, nonetheless. And please, call me Peter. My nephew is Derek.”

Andrew nods, saying nothing. Andrew agreed to the meeting, but nothing says he has to make it easy.

“I guess we’ll get down to business then,” Peter says. He pulls two envelopes out of jacket pocket and hands one to Andrew, opening the second one himself. “This is a copy of an agreement signed by my uncle and Stiles’ great grandfather. Not that long ago, actually, although I’m sure it must seem that way.”

Stiles moves to sit on the arm of his father’s chair, reading over his shoulder. “It’s like a treaty-thing? For what?”

“Short version, it says that the Renard family can live on Hale territory in perpetuity. Your family lived a couple of counties over, in Drapier County.”

“And what did the Hales get out of this?” Andrew asks, handing the first page to Stiles and moving to the second page.

“The Renard family agreed that their next child would become a part of the Hale pack. An arranged mating sort of thing. It’s not uncommon for werewolf packs, I’m sure you can imagine that it’s really not easy to meet other eligible werewolves.” Peter smiles and says, “Oh, Stiles, I thought you’d appreciate it if I put the agreement on a flash drive for you. That’s what’s it’s called, right?” He hands over the drive, in a small plastic box. “I also loaded a couple of journals from my family on it as well; I thought you might want to read a bit about our family. There’s one from a human who joined our pack. No foxes that I could find, I think you’ll be the first.”

Andrew hands the second sheet to Peter, and scratches his chin, looking from one Hale to the other. “Respectfully, Mr. Hale…”

“Peter, please.”

“Peter, of course. Respectfully, Peter, are you insane? I understand that one of Claudia’s relatives signed something a long time ago, but I really don’t give a fuck. There’s no way this is going to happen.”

Derek growls softly behind him while Peter smiles and takes a breath, raising one hand to tell Derek to stay calm. “And I understand it’s a surprise, Andrew. Believe me, it was a surprise to me to find out that a Renard had moved back here. Considering how they ran originally. I think they had the idea that if they left the territory it would void the contract. It doesn’t, of course. Really, if you ran, all it would do is piss me off. And unlike my uncle, I wouldn’t let it go. I would find you wherever you end up. But that’s nothing we need to talk about, is it?”

Peter smiles again, and honestly, Andrew wishes he would stop doing that. When Stiles’ eyes go gold and he drops his teeth, he looks as harmless as a kitten compared to this man, sitting in his human shell in the Stilinski’s living room.  Andrew shuts his eyes for a moment and says, “He’s not even eighteen. He’ll graduate high school in June and he’s going to go to college.”

For the first time, Peter addresses Stiles directly. “Have you chosen a college yet, Stiles?”

“I’ve applied to a few. Chico State and Pepperdine. I’m also planning to apply to UC Berkeley,” he answers with a shaky voice.

“Good schools. I went to UCLA myself, and I think Erica is planning on going there; or at least it was on her list. Isaac will probably go to Chico; he likes being a little closer to home.”

His smile towards Stiles is gentle and Andrew isn’t sure if that’s good or bad.

“I’d expect Stiles to go to college and have a career, if that’s what he’d like,” Peter states, talking with both of them. “I’m aware he’s under eighteen right now, and while age doesn’t mean much in shifter’s worlds, I know it has significance to humans. I suggest he lives here during the school week and lives at the pack house Friday and Saturday nights. The pack’s often there on weekends so they’ll all get used to each other. And he’ll have his own room. Then when he’s eighteen, this coming April, he’ll move in completely.”

Andrew shakes his head, sputtering, “No. No, that won’t work, he’s in high school, weren’t you listening? He’s a high school senior, he’s still a child, he’s…”

“He’s hardly a child, now is he, Andrew? He’ll be going to college next fall so he wouldn’t be living with you anyway. Not to mention that eighteen is a California law; if I had found you when you lived in Michigan, the age of consent there is sixteen.” Peter shrugs and says, “I’m not trying to be difficult, Andrew, but please understand. What’s mine is mine and I _will_ enforce this contract. I’m not sure why my uncle didn’t; perhaps he wasn’t willing to track down an unborn child. And I’m not sure why my sister didn’t follow-up.” He glances over at Derek and smiles and knits his fingers together over his stomach. “You could have been seventeen with a ten year old mate lined up for you. Well, perhaps that’s why she let it go; sometimes Talia wasn’t as strict about enforcing our laws as she could have been. But I am _not_ as willing to let it go. There is a signed contract and I _will_ enforce it. And if you run, I won’t be happy, and I _will_ find you wherever you end up.”

Peter stands and turns to Andrew and Stiles who just look at each other. Stiles swallows audibly and stands as well, making his way to the door on shaking legs, while Andrew stands with his head bowed.

“Well, we should leave and let you finish your evening.” Stiles is standing by the door, holding Peter’s coat out to him. His face is paler than normal and he’s breathing quickly through his mouth. Peter act on his instincts and does what comes naturally -- what he does for his betas when they’re upset. He leans into Stiles shoulder, rubbing his face up Stiles’ neck and ending with a small huff of breath just behind his ear. And like any of his betas, Stiles relaxes into him. Peter can hear his heat beat slow and recognizes his scent getting sweeter and calmer.

He puts his hand on Stiles’ other shoulder, rubbing gently, and brushing the fox’s jaw with his thumb, leaving his scent on both shoulders. “Be sure to bring any homework you have with you on Friday. I know it’s tempting to slack off a bit during your senior year, but you need to keep your grades up for the final transcript transfer to your colleges. I’ll see you on Friday at six, Stiles. Please don’t be late, I’ll be making dinner.”

“Friday.” Stiles nods and steps back, closing the door after them before he sinks to the floor next to the door, looking up at his father with stunned eyes.

  
“I think that went well,” Peter says, walking down the sidewalk to their car.

Derek chuckles and says, “Yeah. I was a little intimidated by you, to be honest.”

“Really? I’m flattered, Derek. Here, you drive,” Peter answers, and tosses over the car keys.

Peter rarely lets anyone drive his car, as possessive of his Mercedes as Derek is of his Camaro. “Thanks,” he says and gets into the driver’s seat.

“Let’s stop at the Buttercup. I could eat a French Dip.”

“I can always eat an omelete,” Derek says and drives towards the diner. “So…are you sure I shouldn’t hang around and be sure they won’t take off?”

“Not necessary,” Peter says, flipping through messages on his phone. “They aren’t going anywhere.”

“You’re sure? The father looked pretty pissed off. Well, shocked and pissed off.”

Peter snorts quietly and puts his phone back in his pocket. “Yes, but they’ll stay. Did you – could you smell Stiles’ scent?”

“Yeah, quite a bit,” Derek snorts and shakes his head. “It’s just different, I guess. Not human, not wolf. Different and strong. What about it, can you read him?”

“Hmm, I rather like it. But he didn’t smell angry or frightened. His overwhelming smell --was curiosity.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the thing -- this is NOT going to be non-con in any way. So for people who were worried that it will be, it isn't. For people who are hoping that it will be, it won't be. 
> 
> Peter talks a good game, but he's besotted pretty quickly. And remember, never trust a fox.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew and Stiles talk after Peter leaves.
> 
> Derek and Peter discuss the visit with the Stilinskis.

Andrew looks out the front window and watches the large, black sedan drive off before he says anything. “Okay, go upstairs and pack your bags. We’ll shut everything off around midnight as usual, and then around two, we’ll leave.”

“Leave? Dad, what are you talking about? We can’t leave -- where would we even go?”

“We can figure it out. I can call your aunt and uncle, I’m sure they’d be willing to let us stay there, at least for a while.” Andrew scrubs a hand through his hair, walking around the room. He goes towards the liquor cabinet, but with a shake of his head, he goes back to sit on the couch, grabbing the envelope with the contract in it.

“Dad, we can’t drag them into this. Peter said he’d track us down, and we can’t lead him to Ben and Anne, you know that wouldn’t be right.” Stiles sits next to his father, falling silent, replaying the conversation in his head.

“Well, we have to do something, Stiles, because I’m not just handing you over to him. I don’t care about any stupid contract signed by your mother’s grandfather. That’s ancient history.”

“I know you don’t understand it, and you don’t like it, but it _is_ history. Mom and my history,” he says quietly. He feels the drive in his pocket, and wonders what else is on it.

Andrew slumps back on the couch, tossing the printed contract on the table in front of them. “What does that mean? Are you seriously thinking of doing this?”

Stiles rubs his hands together as he gets up to pace around the living room, from the front window to the dining room table and back. “I’m sure he won’t do anything this weekend. It’s all new and he’ll want me to be comfortable. And he’s got the rest of his pack to bring into this whole thing.”

“You don’t think he’s told them?” Andrew asks, watching his only son walk back and forth.

He shakes his head and says, “No, unless he did it today after school. No one was weird to me or any different this week. They seemed more curious about tonight than anything. Besides, they all say that he’s good to them, that he’s a good alpha. I don’t think he’d be good to them and shitty to me.”

“Language. Okay, so you go this weekend and do what?”

“Check it out. Get an idea of what he wants. Find out if he’s telling the truth about what he said so far. Find out who he is.”

“I still don’t know, Stiles. He’s a werewolf. I’ve never met one before, but your mother did and she said they’re strong and they’re fast. What if…Okay, I’ll say it - what if he tries to rape you?” Andrew asks quietly and forces himself to look Stiles in the eye. He looks so much like his mother.

“I don’t think he will, but if he tries anything, I’ll shift and bite the heck out of him,” Stiles answers, shrugging.

“Not sure if that’s a good idea,” Andrew says. He attempts a smile, knowing his son is trying to reassure him. “Don’t wolves eat foxes?”

Stiles doesn’t mention the chase in the reserve when he answers, “Maybe in the arctic, in the middle of the winter they do. Right now, I think they’d be more likely to get in the car and drive to Safeway.”

“I still don’t like it. I still think we should leave. Apparently, that’s what your grandparents did,” Andrew says, getting up from the couch and pouring himself a scotch. It’s a small one, but he really feels like he deserves it.

“Dad, we can’t just leave, not every time I get in trouble. You need a job, and you wouldn’t be able to apply for a sheriff’s position somewhere else. And unfortunately, since our last name isn’t Jones, we’d be pretty easy to follow.”

“I can do something else, I can get some other type of job,” he says. He finishes his drink and looks longingly at the cabinet, but puts the glass down on the coffee table.

“Let’s wait, okay? Let me check this out and see what it looks like.” Stiles sits back down next to his father, ignoring Peter’s scent still on his collar when he rests his head on his father’s shoulder. “I did some research on the Hales. They’re loaded. Like really truly loaded. Maybe not Oprah rich, but rich enough. And I wouldn’t mind if Peter paid for my college and paid off the house. Hell, have you live in a bigger house, why not?”

Andrew reaches over and pats Stiles’ leg. “Son, I don’t need someone paying off the house or paying for your college. We’re doing okay, please believe me about that.”

“I know, but why not take advantage of what he has?” Stiles shrugs and reaches out to grab the contract, quickly scanning it. “I’ll see what I can find out about this guy who signed it, Martin Hale. Hmm, look, this was signed like a couple of years before Mom was born.”

“Do you think that means something?” Andrew asks, looking over his shoulder.

“I don’t know, it’s just interesting, I guess. I’ll see what I can find and maybe see if there’s something you can find? At least try to confirm they don’t have criminal records?”

“Yeah, I’ll check this guy out, not that I think there’s anything. I didn’t find anything checking Peter or Derek,” Andrew says, sighing loudly. “And I don’t know what good anything I find will do, but I’ll look.”

“Okay, thanks. I don’t know that it would do anything either, but it’s knowledge and that can never hurt.” Stiles gathers the water bottles and picks up his dad’s empty glass carrying them into the kitchen. “Hey, Dad,” he calls from the kitchen. “Do you think it would be okay if I went for a run? Not a long one, but I just need to get out and…”

“Yeah, that’s fine, I understand. Just do me a favor and start from the backyard, don’t take your jeep out?” Andrew enters the kitchen and gives Stiles another hug; they’ve always been a touchy family and Stiles clings to him for a long minute before he relaxes.

“Dad? Have you ever regretted marrying Mom or… or having me?”

Andrew pulls away and points at his son, saying, “No. No, never and don’t ever _ever_ think that. You’re my son and I have never regretted that. Understand?”

“Yeah, okay. Thanks, Dad. And don’t worry, I know this’ll work out.” He smiles and slips out the backdoor, pulling off his shirt as he walks out into the dark.

 

“They really do make a good chowder here,” Peter says, pouring oyster crackers into the bowl. “Do you want a taste?”

“No thanks,” Derek answers, sipping his coffee. “I’ve had it before, it’s good, but it won’t go with my eggs.”

“Your loss.” Peter sips his beer and glances around the restaurant. It’s late for the dinner crowd and only about half the tables are full. Their waitress is attentive, but doesn’t hover, which is how Peter likes it, especially when there’s a need to talk pack business.

“Can I ask you a question?” Derek asks and waits until Peter nods. “Do you really want Stiles in the pack? More than in the pack, you want him as your mate? You’ve never had a mate, and never seemed interested in one, but you want him?”

Peter finishes his soup, pushing his bowl to the edge of the table. “Does that trouble you? Derek, do _you_ want him as your mate?”

“No!” he exclaims. Then they wait while the waitress brings their dinners, and refills Derek’s coffee. Both men smile and at her and when she leaves, Derek continues, “No, that’s not why I asked, it’s not that.”

“Ah, I see. You’re interested in someone else then,” Peter says, grinning as he takes a bite of his beef sandwich.

Derek stabs a bite of pancake along with a chunk of sausage, covering everything in syrup. “It’s not about that, Peter, it’s not about me. I’m just surprised about you, is all. I didn’t think a mate was something you wanted.”

“I didn’t either. But…have you smelled him? From the first day when Scott came home and had that scent on his sleeve and then Boyd and Erica came in.” Peter’s gaze is somewhere over Derek’s shoulder “The scent of him, it’s like…it’s like nothing I’ve ever smelled before.”

Derek raises an eyebrow and spears a French fry from Peter’s plate, adding some of his bacon to go with it. “He does have a scent. To me, it’s definitely not completely human. There’s something outdoorsy and something kind of bitter. With all that teenage hormone added in. I guess it’s not the same for you?

“There’s flowers, I’m not sure what. It’s not roses or lilacs or anything that sweet. There’s something spicy – like cumin? Smokey like that. And grassy and molasses and…”

“Man, you do have it bad,” Derek says with a grin. He reaches for Peter’s sandwich, untouched for a bit, but Peter reaches out and slaps the back of his hand with his fork.

“Maybe. I don’t know, it’s strange. You don’t smell him like that?” Peter asks, tilting his head, studying his nephew.

Derek waits until the waitress comes by with another beer for Peter and a refill of his  coffee. After she leaves he says, “Obviously not. But that’s probably the part where he’s your mate. That’s what mom said, that you know when you’ve met your mate because they smell better to you than anyone ever has.”

“I know she said that, my parents did as well. I never actually believed it,” Peter says, taking a small bite of his sandwich and a larger drink of beer. “I still don’t know that I do. It seemed like something your parents would say to make you feel better about breaking up with people. Although that doesn’t seem like something _my_ parents would say.”

“Maybe it’s true, it seems to be true.” After a few minutes of both quietly eating, Derek says, “Maybe that’s why Uncle Martin signed the contract? Maybe he could somehow sense that there was something with their family that would match with someone in our family? Like a close scent, but not quite right?”

“A scent that was appealing, but not captivating to him? Maybe.”

Derek finishes his breakfast, eating the last strip of bacon after dunking it in more syrup. This Peter lets him pull his plate over to snag the remaining fries. “Mom might have done the same thing then; or maybe Uncle Martin told her that someone in our family was going to be a match for someone in their family?”

Peter sighs and leans back in the booth, sipping at the remainder of his beer. “Maybe.   
Possibly, I don’t know. Neither of them followed up with the contract, which they had every right to. Perhaps Martin felt that he was ultimately too old to wait for a mate who hadn’t even been conceived yet. I’m not sure why your mother didn’t pursue it.”

“I don’t know, maybe raising all of us, she lost track,” Derek says, shrugging. He stacks their plates and puts them to the side of the table, checking his phone for messages from the pack.

“I don’t know. I remember Martin telling her about it; I remember being there when she became the alpha and he told her.” They sit silently when their table is cleared and the check is dropped off.  “Did anyone call?”

“Scott, Lydia and Allison sent texts,” Derek says, passing his phone to his uncle. “Everyone’s curious, which isn’t surprising. What are you going to tell them?”

“The truth,” Peter answers. “Saturday night is pack night, so we’ll have everyone over as usual and explain that Stiles is joining our pack.”

“Maybe a little bit more of an explanation than just that?” Derek suggests, raising an eyebrow. He grabs the check as they slide out of the booth, pulling out his wallet and the credit card that all pack members share.

“There’s a lot of maybes involved here. I guess it’ll depend on how Friday night goes.”  


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles spends his Friday night with Peter at the pack house.

“Are you sure, Stiles? Maybe we can suggest this start next weekend? Or…” Andrew runs his hand through his hair and says, “Or we say that I’ll come and check out the house first. Make sure that everything’s the way he says it will be.”

“Dad…” Stiles sighs and sits on the arm of the couch. He’s got a large duffle bag on the couch next to him, along with his backpack, stuffed with his laptop and books he needs for his homework. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll text you tonight and keep you updated. And text you tomorrow and I’ll be home on Sunday.”

“I don’t know why you’re so calm about this. Do you know something I don’t?”

“I don’t know why I’m calm either, but there’s something…” Stiles pauses, trying to figure out how to explain this. How to explain that this feels almost normal to his fox-side, even if it makes no sense to his human side or to his human father.

“It’s like this is what’s supposed to happen, you know? Or maybe you don’t,” he says and shrugs. “It’s… it’s hard to put into words, but this seems like what I should be doing – it’s what Mom would say I should do.”

“Your mother would not want you to do this, she’s fight it just like her grandparents did, she’d agree that this is crazy, and…”

Stiles shakes his head and grabs his bags. “We’ll talk when I get back on Sunday, Dad. And like I said, I’ll text you and call you and… it’ll be okay, I just know it.”

Andrew pulls his son into a hug, holding him until Stiles lets go first, patting his father on the back. “Anything, if you need anything, call me. Call me if you don’t need anything, but call me or text me or…”

“I will. See you on Sunday, love you, Dad,” Stiles says, picking up his bags and heading out the door.

 

Now that he has a chance to look at the Hale house, he’s pretty impressed. The last time he was here, he was a fox and Peter carried him inside and dumped him in the living room. Now, he’s sitting outside the house, studying where he’s supposed to live.

The house has three stories, a main floor, upstairs and a window at the front that looks like it must be an attic. There’s a big front porch that runs across the front of the house, complete with a porch swing hanging by the large picture window. A wicker love seat and rocking chair are on the other side of the porch, with large double-doors in between them.

The red doors open and Peter steps out onto the porch calling out, “You can park on the gravel there.” Then he stands and waits for Stiles to get out of his jeep, so there’s no going back.

Stiles grabs his two bags and heads for the house. “Well, I’m here as ordered,” he says, stopping in front of Peter.

“Good, thank you and welcome,” Peter says, opening the front door and moving aside so Stiles can enter. “Is this everything?”

Trying to keep any alarm out of his voice, Stiles says, “I’m just here for two nights, remember? Going home Sunday evening.”

“Of course,” Peter answers easily. “I guess I’m surprised that it seems like a reasonable amount of luggage; when I went with Lydia to Stanford for a weekend, she had two full suitcases and a bag the size of your backpack. Set your things down here, I’ll show you around on this floor and we can get them on the way upstairs.”

Stiles does as he’s told, putting his bags by the coat rack, and hanging his coat and scarf up. “Okay. Let the abuse begin.”

“No abuse planned, Stiles, but thank you for the vote of confidence. This is the living room, obviously. The pack spends a lot of free time here, I hope you’ll be comfortable here as well.” He leads Stiles through an open archway and says, “Dining room, table expands for celebrations. I hope your father will feel comfortable enough to join us.”

Stiles muffles a snort and says, “Yeah, that might be a while. Right now, he’s still waiting for you to rape and murder me. Not necessarily in that order.”

Peter turns and his eyes briefly flash red as he studies Stiles. “I hope you’ll learn to believe me, Stiles, and that I can earn your trust. I want you to grow and thrive and become a happy, fulfilled person. As my mate, within our pack. I would _never_ intentionally hurt my pack, and I certainly won’t hurt you.”

“Look, I’m here and that’s a start, I guess. Don’t expect too much, too soon, okay?”

The alpha nods and turns around, continuing to walk into the next room. “That’s fine. I know we have a lot to learn about each other. This is, obviously again, the kitchen.”

Stiles looks around the large room and for just a minute thinks _I could get used to this._

The room is almost as large as his living room back home, with shiny marble countertops, a double sink, large table and two ovens. He’s guessing there’s a fridge behind one set of cabinet doors and probably a dishwasher as well.

Everything is shiny and modern and Stiles tries not to look as impressed as he feels. “Nice kitchen,” he says with a shrug, giving Peter a raised eyebrow.

Peter smiles and looks around the room, pride on his face. “Thank you. I end up doing most of the cooking; it’s really the only way to ensure the pack doesn’t have carryout every night. Do you cook?”

“A little,” Stiles says, glancing at Peter before he opens up cabinets full of dishes and more glasses than he’s ever seen outside of a store. “I try to cook for my father most nights when he’s home. Make sure he eats well and yeah, he’d eat McDonalds every night at work if I didn’t pack dinners for him to take to the station.”

“You’re welcome to cook here, of course. If you’d like, no pressure.” Peter opens one of the cabinets, pulls a loaf of bread wrapped in foil from the fridge and puts on the counter, next to one of the ovens. “Garlic bread. I hope you’re hungry. We’re having that and a four cheese lasagna.”

“Sounds good, smells good, too,” Stiles answers, sniffing the air as Peter stirs something in a pot simmering on the stove.

“I have a bottle of Riesling open; would you like a glass before dinner?” Peter pulls an open bottle from the fridge and goes to another cabinet to pull out two wine glasses.

“Umm, I am underage you know? I know you know,” Stiles answers, leaning against the counter, rubbing his hand on the cool marble.

“Of course I know. But I’m going to make the assumption that you’ve had alcohol before. And it’s just a glass of wine and you’re not driving anywhere,” Peter says, picking up one of the glasses he’s poured. “But if you don’t drink, that’s fine. I’m not trying to pressure you, and I’m capable of drinking two glasses.”

Stiles steps forward and his hand hovers over the glass. “I don’t know if I like wine; I’ve never really had any.”

“You can try it, if you’d like. No obligation to finish it.” Peter drinks from his glass and smiles slightly.

After taking a sip, Stiles looks at the glass, brows drawn together. “It’s good, I think. I thought it would be really sweet.”

“No, not this one. If you like sweet, we’ll try a dessert wine next time. Or if you decide you’d like something else, let me know and I’ll make sure it’s here for you. Or have Derek pick something up from the grocery store. Or…”

“You’re nervous,” Stiles interrupts, eyes going wide. “You’re… you’re nervous, aren’t you? Why are _you_ nervous?”

“I wouldn’t say I’m exactly nervous, but I am anxious that you feel comfortable here. For you to understand and be glad this is your home,” Peter answers, putting his glass back on the counter, next to Stiles’ glass. “If you’re ready, we’ll go upstairs and I’ll show you to your room to get settled in. Then we’ll have dinner.” He adjusts the temperature on the oven and then leads Stiles out of the kitchen.

“These are the front stairs,” Peter explains, as they’re walking up the stairs off the living room. “There’s stairs towards the other end of the house from the dining room. Makes it easy to sneak into the kitchen for a snack, if you like.”

“Umm hmm.” Stiles shifts one of his bags to the other shoulder and Peter reaches over to take one.

“Bedrooms are on this floor. Derek is at the end of the hall, and Isaac’s room is next to him. Across from him is Erica and Boyd’s room. Kira’s next to them, and Scott’s across the hall from her, although they’re usually sharing. Lydia is next to Kira and Allison is across from Lydia.” He opens a door almost at the end of the hall, gesturing Stiles to enter. “This is your room.”

The room is about the same size as his bedroom at home, with a large window on one wall overlooking what must be the back of the house. There’s a queen sized bed, with a striped red and blue comforter. A dresser with a flat screen TV is against a wall next to a door and Stiles can see that’s the bathroom. It’s simple, but looks comfortable and most importantly, Peter says it’s _his_ room.

“This is… it’s nice,” Stiles says, putting his computer bag down on the dresser. “It’s better than I expected, to be honest.”

Peter smiles and shrugs. “Well, since your expectation was for me to have sex with your corpse, the bar was set pretty low.” He sets Stiles’ duffle bag on the bed and says, “You may want to keep some clothes here eventually; it would be easier than dragging things back and forth.”

“Yeah, I suppose so.” Stiles sighs and looks around the room. “What’s through there?” he asks, pointing to a door opposite the bath.

“My room,” Peter says, and walks into the adjoining room. It’s larger than Stiles, and more lived in, with books on the dresser and bedside table. The walls are painted a deep blue-gray, but the room is still bright, due to the wall of windows with a view of the side and front of the house.

“So your room is connected to my room? That’s…something.”

“Don’t read too much into it,” Peter says, grinning. “Your room was designed to be a nursery, so that’s why it’s connected. Although of course, it will be convenient when we’re mated. Perhaps you’ll want to move in here. We’ll discuss that when it’s time.”

Stiles look around and sighs, backing up into the adjoining room. “I think it’s good that I’m in here for now, if that’s okay.”

“Of course,” Peter says easily. “Dinner’s almost ready. I thought we’d eat and then after, I’ll show the library upstairs; you should feel free to use it. There’s lots of interesting books about our kind, along with regular books on history, architecture, art…”

“Yeah, we’ll look later, thanks.”

“Well,” Peter says, looking around his room and back at Stiles. “I need to go check on dinner. You can come downstairs or get comfortable up here, if you’d like, and I’ll let you know when dinner’s ready.”

Stiles nods and takes a quivery breath before he says, “I’d like to call my dad. I told him I would.”

“Of course. I’m not trying to keep you away from him, you know. You should have a relationship with your family, the other pack members do with theirs.” Peter sits on the end of the bed next to Stiles, keeping a few inches between them. “Of course the way you’re joining our pack is different than the others, but I think in time, you’ll be happy with our pack. And your father will see that and be glad for you.”

“Yeah, that might take a little while,” Stiles says. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and looks at Peter, clearly waiting for him to leave.

“I’ll call you when dinner’s ready, probably in about thirty minutes,” Peter says, as he leaves the room.

Stiles listens as he goes down the stairs before he calls his father.

 

“Hey, Dad, it’s me,” Stiles says quietly, aware that wolves’ hearing is always better than humans’, even when the wolves are in their human form.

“Stiles,” his father says, and his relief is clear, even over the phone. “Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I’m fine, Dad. I’m in, I guess I’m in my room. Upstairs.” He stops and takes a couple of quick pictures and texts them over. “See, all nice and normal.”

There’s silence on the phone for a moment while Andrew looks at the photos. “Looks okay, and that’s _your_ room, right? Do you have your own bathroom?”

“Yeah, weird thing to ask, but okay,” Stiles says, snapping a picture through the open door.

“So you’re not sharing a shower or something,” Andrew says. “Does your door lock?”

Stiles rolls his eyes at the phone and says, “Yes, but werewolves, Dad. Short of building a brick wall in front of the door, there’s not much protection. And I don’t even think a brick wall would do much.”

“No, probably not. I know you haven’t been there long, but for now, how do you feel? Are you safe?”

He sits quietly, thinking of what he’s seen so far.  He can hear Peter working in the kitchen, music playing too softly for him to recognize what it is, just that it’s something quiet and vaguely bluesy. “So far, so good. Yeah, I’m okay. I’ll call you when I go to bed.”

“Okay, son, do that.” Andrew says, sighing loudly. “Be careful and remember I love you. If you change your mind and want me to pick you up…”

“Love you, too, Dad,” Stiles says and quickly hangs up.

 

Stiles unpacks his bags, stacking his laptop and school books on the dresser. He opens his other bag and dumps all the clothes into one drawer, and then flops back on the bed and sighs. “Comfy. It would be.” He looks around the room once more and gets up, checking to see if there are locks on the bedroom doors. The one to the hallway locks, and there’s no lock between his room and Peter’s. Which kind of makes sense, if it’s supposed to be a future child’s room. Although as he told his father, it wouldn’t make a difference anyway.

Peter’s voice comes from the stairs, calling, “Stiles, dinner’s ready in five.”

“Coming,” he says, as he gives the room one last look before heading back downstairs.

 

“Looks like you like dinner.” Peter smiles and pushes the plate of hot garlic bread towards Stiles.

“Yeah, it’s really good, thanks,” Stiles answers, licking his fingers. “I haven’t had lasagna that didn’t have tomato sauce though. This is like all cream or something?”

Peter chuckles and tops off his glass of wine, checking to see if Stiles needs more. He’s sipped a little, enough to be polite, but is drinking his glass of water more the wine. “Cream, milk and lots of cheese. It’s not an everyday type of thing, but it’s nice for a special occasion.”

“There’s a lot,” Stiles says, wiping up some sauce with a bit of bread. “Is this just for us?”

“No.” Peter cuts another piece, putting it on Stiles’ plate. “There’ll be leftovers for Derek and Isaac to eat later tonight when they come home. I did ask that they occupy themselves elsewhere this evening, so they probably won’t be back until after ten.”

“Isaac lives here? All the time? He’s like my age, isn’t he?”

“Yes, he lives here full time. There were…problems with his home life. Technically, we’re his foster family,” Peter says, smiling fondly. “And of course, we’re his pack.”

“And the others – their parents are okay with them here, practically living with a middle aged man?”

Peter smiles again, and gathers their empty plates, carrying them to the sink. “Not quite middle aged, but yes. Maybe that’s a story for tomorrow night when everyone’s here. We usually spend Saturday night together – nothing frightening, Stiles, just watching a movie and eating junk food. Like any other family with teenagers, I guess.”

“Maybe not on Saturday night, but sure, sounds right,” Stiles says. He carries the rest of the items from the dining room table into the kitchen and puts them on the counter then stands back while Peter wraps things for the fridge and puts their dishes in the dishwasher.

“Come on, I’ll show you the library. I hope you’ll like it.” Peter hangs the damp kitchen towel over the oven door handle and leads Stiles to the stairs by the dining room to go up to the top of the house.

 

The room is beautiful, with dark paneling, plush carpets and of course, walls of book shelves. Stiles thinks it’s probably at least as large as Peter and his rooms combined, one floor down.

The book cases aren’t completely full; there’s framed pictures and what looks like expensive decorations artistically arranged on the shelves as well.

There’s two loveseats and a comfortable looking chair facing a gas fireplace. A desk by the front window and one opposite the fireplace complete the main furnishings.

“Wow, I’m impressed,” Stiles says, entering the room and approaching one of the bookcases. “Are these all supernatural books?”

“Oh, not hardly,” Peter answers, looking around the room with a proud smile on his face. “Those three shelves are,” he says, pointing to the bookcases with some of the older looking books. “We also have a lot of history, architecture, art and plain novels. Of course, you’re welcome to be in here whenever you’d like. Lydia and Danny like to do homework in here.”

“Yeah, I might. I’m guessing there’s wifi then?” Stiles asks, looking at the books on the shelf before picking out a large volume on the Hermitage in Russia and moving to one of the loveseats.

Peter sits on the other loveseat and uses a remote to turn on the gas fire before he picks up a book waiting on a side table. “Yes, of course there’s wifi throughout the house; Danny’s been very careful with setting everything up so we have the best signal.”

Stiles slowly turns pages, not really looking at the book on his lap. He keeps his head down, aware that Peter knows he’s just using the book as a distraction. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course,” Peter says, with a friendly smile that still looks a little bit wolf to Stiles. “Please do, this is time for us to get to know each other.”

“So do you have a job? What do you do?”

“I do have a job. I do investments, sometimes day trades. The Hales have always been financially comfortable and I work to keep us that way.”

Stiles snorts and says, “Comfortable, okay, sure. Do you like work every day? Is it a nine to five thing?”

“The hours aren’t that rigid, but I do generally work Monday through Friday for at least a few hours a day.” Peter shrugs one shoulder and smirks, saying, “Routine is good for adults as well as teens.”

“I guess so.” Stiles pauses for a second and asks, “Does Derek have a job?”

“Yes, he works, too, just like real people do. He likes building things; he does fences and decks. Mostly outdoor things where people don’t bother him too much.” Peter opens his book, just flipping through pages. “He built the decks in both the front and back of the house and did most of the flooring in the house as well.”

“Cool.” Stiles sits quietly for a minute, turning pages, certain that his nerves must be showing. But Peter isn’t concentrating on _his_ book, so he must be open to questions. “So, umm, this whole mate of the alpha thing? You do realize I’m a guy, right? So I’m probably not going to have babies. Doesn’t that kind of defeat the purpose?”

Peter grins and flashes his red alpha eyes. “Yes, I realize you’re male, based both on how you present yourself and of course, I’ve also seen you naked. I’m an alpha werewolf, Stiles. I’ve already created several new wolves for my pack.”

Stiles closes the book and puts it on the coffee table in front of him. “And you’re what – bisexual?”

“Hmm, maybe. When I was in college…well, I confess, I was more popular than particular.” He smiles again and Stiles quickly looks away, feeling a blush rise in his cheeks. Peter either doesn’t notice or pretends not to notice. “When I was younger, I was interested in a nice face and good body. Now, I still like those things, of course, but now I’m also interested in someone with a brain. Gender’s never been my main concern.”

Stiles tries to keep from grinning and says, “Fancy way of saying you’re a reformed slut?”  

“I suppose so.” Peter grins back, and asks, “What about you? Based on your scent, I’m thinking you’re not completely straight.”

“No. I’m completely gay. Or I think so. I mean I haven’t had a crush on any girls like I have on guys.”

Peter sits back and rubs his lips, studying Stiles until the boy squirms. “And with this crush or crushes…may I ask about your sexual experiences?”

“Wow, kind of blunt there,” Stiles says and now he feels the blush into his hair.

Peter shrugs and continues to look at Stiles. “Why beat around the bush?”

“Sure, I guess. Umm, there was one guy and there was…nothing much really, just some messing around, I guess.”

“Messing around? That’s a little vague, can you help me with that?” Peter asks. Stiles smells embarrassed, but there’s also a sweet spike in his normal scent.

“You know, messing around, just, just stuff,” Stiles says, still looking down at his lap, rubbing his knuckles.

Peter leans forward into the sweet smell of his future mate. “There’s a lot to work with there, messing around. Was it kissing or were you fisted in a sex swing?”

“Jesus, Peter!” Stiles cries, turning away, slapping himself in the forehead.

“I’m assuming it’s not the sex swing. They’re expensive and you have to have a lot of room to hang one up. So…”

Stiles turns back to Peter, standing with his eyes flashing gold as he says, “A lot of making out and we, you know, exchanged hand jobs. Okay? That clear enough?”

“Okay, thank you for telling me. Stiles, I think I’ve told you that I’m very interested in consent – for everything. Every bitten wolf in my pack was told the risks along with the benefits and wanted the bite. I would never, ever do anything that you don’t want. I hope you understand that.” He puts a hand on Stiles’ shoulder and rubs his thumb in a circle over Stiles’ neck.

Stiles tilts his head into Peter’s hand, shutting his eyes and sighing. Then he steps back and stares at Peter, whining, “Damn! Why do I _do_ that?”

Peter smiles again and says, “Because your fox knows that I’m your alpha. And you’re  learning that, too. And you know I’ll take care of you and never hurt you.”

Stiles nods, reluctantly, and stifles a yawn, saying, “Sorry. I think the day’s catching up with me.”

“You should go to bed. Sleep in and we’ll have breakfast when you get up. The rest of the pack will be over in the afternoon. Maybe you, Derek and Isaac can go for a run before they get here.” Peter runs his fingers down Stiles’ arm and quickly pulls his hand back.

“It’s too early for bed, it’s only…” he pulls out his phone and checks the time. “Wow, it’s after eleven.”

“Um hm,” Peter says. “Go on up to bed; turn on the TV and I bet you’ll fall asleep in no time.”

“Yeah, I think I will.” He scrubs his hand through his hair and says, “Thanks for tonight, it was…well, honestly, it was better than I expected.”

“Thank you. And you’re still alive, so I guess it has to be counted as a win.” Peter grins again and says, “See you in the morning.”

 

“Hi, Dad,” Stiles whispers into his phone. “Sorry to be calling so late.”

“Stiles, I’m glad you called. I was going to call you, but I didn’t know if it would cause you trouble, and then I thought, who cares if Peter’s upset, but then…”

“Dad, it’s fine. Everything’s okay, please don’t worry. I’m in my room and I’m going to go to sleep now.” Stiles plumps up his pillow, one he took from home. The sheets on his bed are definitely softer than his pillow case; maybe tomorrow, he’ll change the pillow cases. “The rest of the pack is coming over tomorrow. And I’ll talk with you in the morning, okay. Did you remember to eat dinner?”

Stiles can hear his dad’s grin over the phone. “Yeah, I did, almost like I’m an adult. Don’t worry about me. And you’re sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, it’s good so far, no problem. I’m just really tired; I guess it’s been a stressful week, huh?”

“Yeah, we can both use a good night’s sleep. But I’ll sleep better on Sunday when you’re home.”

“Me, too,” Stiles says, yawning into the phone. “Sorry, I’m really tired. I’ll talk with you tomorrow and tell you everything on Sunday when I’m home, okay?”

“Go to sleep. Lock your doors first, okay?” Andrew says.

“I did,” Stiles lies. There’s no point to it – werewolves. “I love you, Dad.”

“Love you, too, kiddo. Sleep well and talk with you in the morning.”

“Night, Dad.” Stiles disconnects and falls asleep with his phone still clutched in his hand.   



	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles spends Saturday with his new pack, and learns about the history of the Hale pack and how they came together.

Stiles wakes up on Saturday morning feeling disoriented, unsure of where he is. It takes him a minute of flailing until he recognizes that he’s in “his room” in Peter’s house.

That settled, he takes a couple of breaths, finds his phone to check the time and tries to determine what should happen next. It’s just after ten and no one woke him up, which is terrific. But he’s not sure what the expectation is. Normally on a Saturday, he’d go downstairs in his boxers to get coffee before he even considers taking a shower. And a shower is basically optional on Saturday; a little bit of natural stink on the weekend should be allowed.

“Help yourself to coffee,” Peter says, looking up from his newspaper, when Stiles stumbles into the kitchen. Peter’s in a loose tank top and sweats, so Stiles thinks his t-shirt and pajama bottoms should be okay, at least for coffee.

“Newspaper?” he asks, pouring coffee. “They still print those?”

There’s a hand on his shoulder, and a voice behind him says, “Peter’s a newspaper kinda guy.”

Stiles presses himself against the counter, dropping the cup and watching the coffee splash everywhere. He turns, hands raised in front of his chest immediately looking for an escape route.

“Whoa, sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you,” Isaac says, stepping back, small smirk on his face. “What, you didn’t hear me?”

Peter’s at his side instantly, his hand familiar and comforting on Stiles’ neck. “Stiles? Are you okay? Do you need to sit down?”

He tries to get his breath under control, hearing his own heart pounding in his ears. “I’m okay, I’m okay,” he says, as much to himself as to the others. There’s suddenly a chair next to him that he gratefully sinks into. “I’m okay.”

“Wow, I really did frighten you,” Isaac says, looking at Stiles with a concerned look on his face.

“Werefoxes don’t have the same sense of smell or hearing when they’re human as we do,” Derek says, from somewhere behind Isaac.

“Did you burn yourself?” Peter asks gently, using a damp towel to wipe off Stiles’ hands. “Your skin’s a little pink, let’s put them under the tap, okay?” He helps Stiles up and stands behind him as Stiles washes off his hands and arms.

Isaac takes towels and cleans off the counter, moving Stiles’ empty cup aside. “I am sorry, I didn’t know you’d…”

“I don’t like people coming up behind me. Sorry, that’s just something…”

“No need to apologize, Stiles,” Peter says, handing him another towel and checking his hands. “You don’t look like you’re burned, but tell me if you’re hurting and we’ll help. Isaac didn’t know you couldn’t hear or smell him and he certainly didn’t mean to startle you.” He looks at the younger wolf with an eyebrow raised, expecting an answer.

“Of course not, I just thought… I don’t know, I’m not used to actually sneaking up on people here. We just don’t,” he says, glancing over at Derek for support.

“’S okay, I’m fine, sorry.” Stiles looks at the floor, aware he’s blushing now. He hates this part, after a mini-panic attack, how everyone looks at him, trying to figure out why he’s such a freak.

“Again, no need to apologize. Do you want me to pour you another coffee and you can go upstairs and change your shirt?” Peter’s already pouring more, adding in cream, just like Stiles did the first time.

Stiles looks down, suddenly aware that his shirt is damp with cold coffee. “Yeah, thanks. I’ll go jump in the shower.” On the way out of the room, he makes himself pat Isaac’s arm, which seems like the right thing to do. After all, according to Peter, they’re going to be pack, and the guy didn’t know.

 

After he’s showered and dressed, Stiles comes back downstairs following the smell of breakfast. The others are sitting at the kitchen table, plates in front of them.

“Oh, good, just in time,” Peter says, gesturing to the empty chair. “I hope you like ham, eggs and toast. We’ll have to find out your likes and dislikes. Allergies, too.”

Stiles piles food on his plate, checking how much Isaac has and taking approximately the same amount. “This is great, thanks. Are there plans for today?”

Derek glances at Peter for a second before he says, “Saturday is laundry day at least for the three of us – you, too, I guess.”

“I don’t really have a lot of dirty clothes,” Stiles answers, also glancing over to Peter. “And I can take anything home and wash them.”

“Makes sense for this weekend; as we discussed, you’ll certainly want to leave things here rather than drag them back and forth. And probably next Saturday, you’ll have towels and sheets and things.” Peter pours himself more coffee and says, “Good to get you into the routine. As we discussed, having a routine is healthy.”

“Sure.” Stiles takes a breath, and looks at his food, suddenly not hungry. This is a routine now, Fridays and Saturday nights at Peter’s house, with a bunch of people he doesn’t really know. On the other hand, these are potential friends and he hasn’t had a lot of those. Of course, he thought Scott was going to be a great friend, but he was the one who turned him over to Peter. On the other hand, his father isn’t normally home for much of the weekend, so company is nice.

Peter pulls him out of his thoughts, saying, “I was thinking you, Isaac and Derek may want to make a run to the grocery store. Pick out some things you like; of course a list would be good so we can get fresh things for next weekend.”

Derek stands, taking his and Peter’s plates to the sink. “Maybe just Isaac and Stiles can go? Unless we need some alcohol.” He stands next to Isaac with his hand out and the boy puts the last bite into his mouth and hands Derek his plate.

Stiles forces the last of his breakfast into his mouth, and swallows, hoping it’ll settle quietly. “I do the grocery shopping for our house, so I can do it, if you want. If that’s okay.” He looks over to Peter, trying to give him a smile.

“You have plans, Derek?” Peter asks, as he stacks the dishwasher, back to the group.

“Yes, just a personal errand,” Derek says. His arms are crossed over his chest and he looks directly at Peter. Or Peter’s back. Nothing to hide.

Peter’s lips quirk and he pointedly looks at Derek’s chest. Isaac says nothing, but he looks down and Stiles sees him fighting off a smile as well. “That’s fine, Derek, I’m sure Isaac and Stiles can handle simple grocery shopping. The pack will be here tonight around five. I was thinking maybe you, Isaac and Stiles might go for a run in the preserve before they get here. Do you think you can be back by, say, two?”

“Sure, that’s fine,” Derek says. “I’ll take off now, if that’s okay.”

“Of course, Derek, have fun…with whatever you’re doing,” Peter tells him and moves towards him to give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

After Derek leaves, Peter turns to the two teens and says, “Now, let’s get you two out to the grocery store. Maybe if there’s time before Derek gets back, you can work on homework. Do you have a lot this weekend, Stiles? When do you usually work on it?”

“Umm, Sunday night? Monday morning over breakfast. I don’t have much for this Monday,” Stiles answers, shrugging. “I brought my books and stuff.”

Isaac takes a step in front of Stiles and says, “I need some help from Lydia on my chemistry. Maybe we’ll work on homework tomorrow after breakfast?”

Peter tilts his head, studying his beta for a long moment. “That makes sense. I just don’t think Stiles should plan to get anything done tomorrow night; his father will undoubtedly want to hear about his weekend and he probably won’t have time for homework.”

Stiles shrugs, looking from Peter to Isaac. “Yeah that would work. I have some French I need help with. Maybe Allison can help?”

“Or I can. One of us can probably help you with whatever you might need. So, we’ll do groceries today, list in the usual place?” Isaac asks and tries to look around Peter to the kitchen counter.

“Of course,” Peter answers and opens a drawer, pulling out a piece of paper and handing it to Isaac. “Thank you for doing this. Don’t forget to strip your bed before you go.”

“Sure, we’re on it. See you in a few.” Isaac bumps his shoulder against Peter’s and they brush their heads together. Then Isaac takes Stiles’ elbow and pulls him out of the room.

 

“Do you need to check upstairs or get your laundry or anything?” Stiles asks as they make their way to the front door.

“No, I did that this morning. Let’s get out of here, before someone changes their mind.”

 

Grocery shopping is pretty easy, same as normal, except for the quantities. They split up the list to get everything faster.

“Derek doesn’t like to split up,” Isaac says, grinning as he dumps several loaves of bread into their shopping cart. “I’m not sure why, I don’t think it’s that he doesn’t trust me. I think it’s just him carrying the pack thing to the extreme.”

Stiles puts in a few boxes of cereal, including a box of Frosted Mini Wheats for himself. “I can grab dairy if you give me the list. And meet you in produce?”

Isaac shrugs and scratches his head. “We might want to do that with the cart, there’s a lot to get. Umm, so do you want to go get shampoo and stuff for yourself? To keep at the house?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess I should. It would be easier than dragging things back and forth,” Stiles says, giving a quick look around, trying to see where the toiletries are in this store. “So Isaac…don’t you think it’s kind of weird that I’m suddenly living in your house?”

Isaac shrugs and checks the shopping list before he says, “Maybe. I don’t know. Derek said that you’re pack now, so you are. And Peter’ll explain to everyone tonight.”

“And what Peter says goes?”

Isaac looks up at Stiles, shrugs again and says, “Peter takes care of the pack. So yes, what he says goes. Because it’s always for a good reason. Now go get your stuff so we can get home and goof off.”

 

Since they made such quick work of grocery shopping, there’s a bit of time to do homework before Derek comes back. Stiles isn’t really in the mood, but it means less to do tomorrow and he and Isaac set up in the library, which really is a great place to work. Stiles has a fresh cup of coffee and is on one of the couches facing the fireplace.

“I’m done,” Stiles says after working for an hour or so. “What’s due on Monday is done and I’ve got an outline for a report due on Wednesday. And it’s Saturday and I am done. Do we have to wait for Derek to go outside?”

Isaac yawns and stretches, slamming his chemistry book shut. “No, but he’s here now anyway. You want to get lunch downstairs or – do you want to catch something?”

 

It’s much friendlier this time outside with the two wolves. Isaac is light brown and white and a smaller than Derek, who is jet black and the biggest animal Stiles has ever seen.

Since it’s winter, Stiles coat is thick and fluffy and he stretches thoroughly before going to Derek to give him a quick sniff. Derek holds still and lets him, so that’s good. He’ll need to tell his father they were outside and no foxes were eaten. He and Isaac trade a quick sniff, which is helpful to keep track of each other in the woods. And then Isaac takes off, running into the woods so quickly that he’s almost out of sight before Stiles takes off after him.

Stiles isn’t sure if the two wolves are trying to keep track of him or if it’s just their coloring that makes them so easy to spot. He’s busy trying to catch some lunch, and quickly catches and eats a field mouse, which is good but not really filling. Before he can go after another one (or six) Isaac comes over and drops a rabbit at his feet, nudging it towards Stiles with his nose. Stiles looks at the rabbit and back at Issac and at Isaac’s nod, he pulls off a large piece for himself. He backs away as he chews, nodding at Isaac to go ahead and finish it. It’s warm, chewy-crunchy and delicious.

Derek comes up beside them, chuffing deep in his throat, so they know he’s there. He has another, larger hare and drops it between them, checking to be sure they’re both eating before he starts to eat.

After the two rabbits are gone and faces licked clean, Derek trots away, checking over his shoulder to be sure his packmates are following. This time, Isaac waits for Stiles to follow Derek so he can take the rear.

Belly full and feeling safe with his wolf escorts, Stiles examines the forest as he runs, darting from side to side to look at California plants that are new to him, and take quick jumps up trees.

Isaac and Derek keep track of him, trading looks as he scales some of the smaller plants and he thinks that maybe wolves don’t go up into trees; it’s something that’s saved his skin before when he’s been chased by dogs. And yes, maybe he’s showing off a little as well.

Finally they get to a lake and Stiles races ahead to run along the edge, splashing in the cold water. Isaac and Derek take a more leisurely approach, but go in so they’re in the water up to their chests. Now that Stiles knows how deep it is, he splashes his way to them, tilting his chin up to keep his head out of the water and head butts one then the other.

Derek splashes further into the lake, and it’s probably not accidental that Stiles gets soaked in the process. He ducks his head under the water for a quick rinse, and then runs to the edge, shaking off as much as he can before he finds an almost-flat rock and jumps out to dry off.

Stiles watches the wolves as they play in the water and decides he can shut his eyes just for minute on the sun-warmed rock. The next thing he knows Derek is nudging him again with his big nose. Stiles isn’t sure how much time has passed, but his rock isn’t in the sun any longer. He stretches and shakes himself out, hopping off the rock and checking both his packmates to be sure they’re okay. Having packmates is new to him, but if it means he gets snacks and feels safe napping, it might be just what he needs.

Derek starts to walk back towards the house, turning to be sure Stiles and Isaac are following. He makes a gruff growl-bark and Stiles barks back at him to let him know he’s ready to go. Apparently it’s the first time Isaac has heard a fox’s bark because he stops and stares with what can only be called a grin on his face. He makes his wolfy growl at Stiles and then tilts his head back and howls. Derek stops and joins him, howling in a way that makes Stiles’ want to tilt his head back and join them. He tries, giving his cry that his father calls screaming. Both wolves look at him and he can picture Derek’s face with his eyebrows raised into his hairline. Stiles does it again a couple more times to be sure the wolves will recognize his call, should he ever need them as backup.

The three make their way back to house, with only one pit stop when Stiles grabs a vole he sees under a bush. He offers it to Isaac, who generously shared his catch with Stiles earlier. It’s small and not much more than a mouthful for the three of them, but Stiles wants to show he can contribute as well. After everyone finishes and licks their lips, they trot back to the house.

 

 

“Hey, Peter,” Scott says as he enters the house later just as the sky’s getting dark. Kira’s with him and they both stop long enough to brush their cheeks against Peter’s as they enter.

“Hi, come on in,” Peter says and waits on the porch for the rest of the group. Next is Lydia with Allison and Danny and then Erica and Boyd.

The first few minutes are chaotic with everyone talking and making sure there’s some contact, reestablishing their scents on each other as pack.

At first, no one’s quite sure what to do with Stiles, but since he smells like Peter, Derek and Isaac, they touch him as well, just a careful brush on his arm or shoulder.

“Are they scent marking me?” he whispers to Peter.

Peter grins and whispers into Stiles’ ear, “Yes, does it bother you? They’ve noticed you smell like us, so they’re just adding to the scent.”

“Is that what you’re doing as well?” Stiles tries not to shiver from Peter’s warm breath.

“Come on and sit down – pick a spot,” Peter says, encouraging Stiles to go into the living room with a hand on his lower back.

Stiles sits on a sofa, crammed into a corner with Derek next to him and Isaac on Derek’s other side. Erica, Boyd and Danny are sitting together, and Kira, Lydia and Allison are all sitting together. Scott sits on the floor by Kira’s feet, looking comfortable as though it’s a normal spot for him.

“I think we need more furniture,” Peter says, carrying a chair from the dining room to put it in front of the fireplace facing the room. “I’m sure you’re all wondering about Stiles being here. I’m glad to tell you that before long he’ll be joining our pack.”

There’s happy murmurs from around the room and lots of smiles and jostling from everyone in the room. Scott makes sure to catch Stiles’ eyes and grins happily, hoping that his previous “betrayal” might be forgiven.

“And,” Peter continues, “I’m happy to say that he’ll be joining us as my mate.”

This gets a much different reaction. Everyone falls silent, just looking from Peter to Stiles and back again.

“Umm, how did that happen, I thought you just met? You certainly didn’t act like you knew him,” Lydia says to Peter.

“Well, as sometimes happens with packs, this is more of an arranged mating. My relatives and Stiles’ signed a contract a few decades ago saying our families would be joined. Now is the time to use that contract,” Peter explains and looks at Stiles with a smile. “You all know how packs benefit when there’s a new member, right?”

Everyone still looks blank so Derek answers, “We get stronger. Both as a pack and individually.”

“Right. And additionally, a pack with a mated alpha is extra strong. There’s additional respect from other packs, because the pack is seen as more settled. And the alpha is both stronger and calmer, too,” Peter continues.

“I’m always calmer when I’m having lots of sex,” Erica says, with a snort.

“Erica!” Allison says, looking at Stiles, who is looking down at his lap, picking at his cuticles.

“Well, it’s true. I mean, you’ll have a mate, Peter. So I’m guessing mate – mating. Sounds like sex to me,” she answers, leaning more into Boyd’s chest.

“It can be; it depends on the pair. Especially with an arranged relationship like ours. Sometimes the pair get along terrifically and fall in love. Other times, it ends up as a partnership – a business relationship, if you will.” He looks at Stiles again, and waits until the boy looks up then says, “Sex doesn’t have to happen to create the bond or ever, if the couple doesn’t want that. We can be bonded through a mating bite. We’d exchange a bite, which wouldn’t turn you, but would join us and join you to the pack.”

“You want this, Stiles? I mean, you just met us. And mating is for life, isn’t it, Peter?” Scott asks quietly.

Stiles is quiet for a long minute, looking at the floor. “I guess so. I mean, first, there’s a contract. My dad doesn’t understand, but my mom always told me about how shifters, or I guess weres work. And how there’s magic and bonds in the family and treaties and stuff. So I kind of know this stuff.” He looks up and meets Peter’s eyes and says, “So, I think yes. It’s sudden and certainly a surprise, but…”

Peter smiles and says, “It is sudden, but it feels right, at least to me.”

Stiles takes a shaky breath and continues, “When my mom died, it was just me and my dad. My mom’s family… they never wanted her to marry him anyway, just because he’s human. And we hardly ever talk with them and when we do it always ends up with tears or screaming. Foxes don’t usually have packs, just our families and mine is mostly gone, and I want… I want a family, so I guess I want a pack.”

“I can understand that. When my sister – Derek’s mother – was killed, having the pack was something that comforted all of us as we adjusted to the changes.” Peter pauses and smirks a little at Stiles. “I think it’ll take a little bit of time winning your father over though. As you said, he’s probably not as happy about the idea of pack as you are.”

“No, he kind of thinks you’re a psycho rapist kidnapper. He may take a bit of convincing.” Stiles looks around the room and says, “Hey, can I ask a question? You mentioned your sister dying and changes. What were those?”

Peter checks on Derek and then the rest of his pack before he answers. “Talia was our alpha. A little over two years ago, she was killed by hunters and I became the alpha. It was challenging, yes, but we got through it. More than that, I can say we’ve thrived.”

Stiles nods and bites his lower lip. “Maybe I misunderstood, I don’t know a lot about werewolf packs, just some stuff my mother told me. But I thought that if Talia had a child, the alpha-ness would go to the him or her, not to a sibling. I mean, I may be wrong…”

“No, you’re right, that’s normally what happens.” Peter says, nodding, happy that Stiles knows a little of their rules. “This was a little different. I can tell you about it, if you’d like.”

“Oh goodie! Daddy, tell us a story!” Erica coos, tugging on Boyd’s arm.

Peter raises an eyebrow at the girl, and flashes his red eyes. “First, never call me that again. And second, yes, I’ll tell all of you – including Stiles – the story of our pack.”

 

People run into the kitchen for drinks, along with bags of chips and boxes of cookies. There’s a bit of rearranging, with Kira joining Scott on the floor, their fingers locked together. Erica gets comfortable on Boyd’s lap and Danny stretches, whispering “thank god” until she puts her stockinged feet in his lap. He sighs, but wraps a hand around her ankle and lets her stay.

“My grandmother was the alpha of our pack when I was growing up, and then passed that role to my father. And Talia, as my older sister, was naturally the heir apparent. Which was fine with me when I was younger; seeing the work my father did, all the juggling of responsibilities and difficulty with treaties, I didn’t envy her.”

“When my father was killed in a fight with another pack, Talia took over as planned. She had married and had three children by the time she became alpha. Laura, Derek and Cora. All of us, including our mother lived here, in the family home. My mother ended up being killed in a car accident, driving on a rainy night.” Peter pauses and shakes his head before continuing. “Such a human way to go. We always offered to drive her, especially as she got older…”

“Grandmother was tough,” Derek says quietly. “She’d always say things like ‘I’m old, I’m not a cripple!’”

“Talia was our leader, I was her right hand and Laura was training to take over from her. We were a small, but respected pack, with a long history and large territory. We had treaties with other west coast packs and things were peaceful.” Peter stops and takes a sip of water from the bottle Isaac brought him earlier. “Then about three years ago, Talia received a call from a friend of hers, Melissa McCall. Melissa works at the hospital and was very kind when Mother was killed. So she called Talia to talk about her son, Scott.”

Scott smiles at the group and Lydia reaches down to tossle his hair before Peter continues.

“Melissa and Talia met in the hospital, in Scott’s room. He’d been there for a couple of days with what was apparently one of his regular winter bouts of pneumonia. Melissa explained that while he was otherwise healthy, he suffered from asthma and generally poor lungs. He caught every cold going around, and it always took him longer to recover. This time in the hospital was a bad one; he’d had one illness after another and was on a third course of antibiotics and he’d get better for a day and then relapse. Talia didn’t understand all of the human explanations, but she knew Melissa was scared.”

“He was a little hot-house orchid,” Danny says, grinning around a handful of tortilla chips.

“Shut up,” Scott says, but keeps grinning as Kira kisses his cheek.

“Melissa was scared,” Peter continues as though he weren’t interrupted, “and Talia finally asked why Melissa called her. Melissa said that she knew our family was something special. She wasn’t sure what, but she’d seen our mother’s fight for life and she’d seen Talia’s eye flash red. She asked if there wasn’t something that could be done to save Scott’s life.”

“Now, Cora knew Scott from school and she said he was a nice boy,” Peter stops and rolls his eyes, then winks at Scott. “Nice, but picked on a bit for being smaller than his age and picked on the way stronger boys will sometimes pick on weaker ones.”

He pauses again and looks over at Stiles, seeing his head drop again, the smell of anxiety around him. “Talia hated people picking on anyone, and especially children, having children herself. She told Melissa she’d have to discuss the request with her family and would get back to her. We all agreed that it would be nice having someone new joining our pack. So… Talia told Melissa about us and when Scott was awake she told Scott about the pack and the benefits and dangers of becoming a werewolf.”

“I remember being so excited at the idea! I mean not just because I wouldn’t be getting sick as much, but just how cool it all sounded!” Scott says, addressing himself mainly to Stiles, who hasn’t heard this story before.

“And he was told of the potential problems, about having to hide himself around normal humans, about learning control and about hunters,” Peter explains.

Stiles nods, “Yeah, I heard all that, too. Of course, I was born to it, but had to learn young. It’s generally not good to be playing with friends and then turn into an animal.”

“True, and in our case, it’s also not good to get annoyed in a grocery store and pull the head off a store clerk.” Peter checks the room and makes sure everyone’s still interested and then continues. “So after all the explanations, Talia gave Scott the bite and he joined our pack. And of course with his mother in-the-know, she’s became part of our pack as well. Scott did well and within a few months, he was able to maintain control and his health improved. He met a beautiful girl who moved to our town, the lovely Allison here.”

Allison blushes and grins at Stiles, saying, “Yeah, he was kinda charming, in a cute-but-dumb way.”

“Hey!” Scott calls out, reaching up to slap her leg. “Well…maybe you’re right, I was a goofy kid before.”

There’s a little bit of snorting and then Peter says, “One good thing about Scott in our pack is he and his mother both kept an eye on others around town. And that’s how we found Isaac.”

Isaac smiles tightly, looking more uncomfortable than Stiles has seen him since they’ve met. Derek bumps shoulders with him and Isaac ducks his head waiting for Peter to continue.

“Scott was going to a friend’s house to pick up some school work. The friend – no one important – lived close to Isaac and as he approached the neighborhood, Scott heard yelling and suddenly smelled blood. A lot of blood,” Peter says quietly.

“I found the house pretty quickly and as soon as I went in, I was phoning Talia,” Scott says.

Peter nods and says, “She was already aware that something was wrong, and Scott was upset; she felt it through our pack bond. She was instantly running towards Scott, with Derek and I following.”

“When we got there…” Derek says and shakes his head, giving Isaac’s knee a squeeze.

“Isaac’s father had a problem keeping his temper. Throwing things at Isaac wasn’t unheard of, but this time when he threw a bottle at Isaac, it broke against a wall and a piece of glass cut an artery in his arm. Scott got there and Isaac was losing blood and his father was standing there, unable or unsure of what to do. Or scared and unwilling,” Peter says. “In this case, I’ll agree that Talia took a short cut. Isaac was conscious and she gave him a short version of what she could do to save him. To make him stronger.”

“I was awake enough to hear and understand,” Isaac says quietly. “I agreed. It was offered, I understood and I agreed.”

“So Isaac joined our family. And shortly after that he moved in. As I said, he’s technically a foster child now,” Peter says and watches as Derek ruffles his hair, getting a scowl back from Isaac.

“What happened to Isaac’s father?” Stiles asks and suddenly most of the pack finds the ceiling very interesting.

“Isaac’s father got into a car accident shortly before he went into foster care. It _was_ an accident,” Peter says firmly, looking from pack member to pack member.

Isaac nods and says, “It was, I believe it was. He was drinking more and more and… he wasn’t always a good person, but he was my father.”

Derek wraps an arm around Isaac and gives him a squeeze, with Isaac moving closer under his arm.

“Are you two a couple? If that’s not too nosey,” Stiles asks Derek as he watches them scent mark each other.

“No!” Derek exclaims, looking pained. “No, get your mind out of the gutter, he’s like my little brother.”

Stiles stammers, “I don’t know, I just…”

“Besides, Isaac likes Allison,” Kira says from her spot next to Scott on the floor.

“Then you’d think he’d ask me out, wouldn’t you?” Allison says to Lydia who shrugs.

“Boys,” Lydia says, flipping her hair over her shoulders. “It’s better to date college men.”

Peter interrupt their banter, saying, “Anyway. So that’s how Isaac joined our family. Things went well for a few months, or so we thought. It was only later that we found that some hunters had moved into town and they had some rather old fashioned ideas. Now, hunters can be valuable to our community. Obviously with Allison here and her father, we have an alliance and even more,” Peter says, smiling at the girl sitting near him. Lydia moves a little closer to her, and laces their fingers together.

“Allison is from a hunter family?” Stiles asks, looking alarmed. “That’s… how did that happen?”

Derek pats Stiles’ arm and says, “As Peter said, hunters can be valuable to keep balance in our population. For example, Boyd lived in Seattle and was bitten by an alpha without his consent. Hunters killed that alpha and probably saved a lot of lives.”

“And Danny is in our pack because he was attacked by an omega wolf within our territory. We worked with Allison’s father, Chris, and he helped us get rid of it.” Peter smiles at Danny, and says, “Luckily, Danny was injured, but not killed. And as he was friends with Lydia and Scott before that, it was an easy decision to ask him if he wanted to join our pack. So hunters can be helpful and when they understand that most wolves are simply living their lives, hurting no one, we can all get along.”

“I’m guessing that didn’t happen?” Stiles asks the group.

“No. Along with the very reasonable Mr. Argent and his lovely daughter, was Mr. Argent’s father, Gerard. And unfortunately, Chris’ wife, Victoria was also much more old school in regards to werewolves. Very much ‘the only good wolf is a dead wolf’ attitude,” Peter says. He pauses and drinks some more water while the wolves in the room shift in their chairs, feeling their alpha’s unease.

Lydia stands, still holding Allison’s hand. “We’re going to go get dinner, if that’s okay. If we wait much longer, we’ll be eating at midnight.”

Peter nods and focuses on the two young women. Allison looks paler and she moves towards the door, avoiding eye contact. “That sounds like a good idea. The boys were out running this afternoon, and in spite of the rabbit on their breath, I think they must be getting hungry.”

“Rabbit?” Danny mutters. “Gross.”

“We’ll pick up Greek, okay? No rabbit, lots of lamb,” Lydia says, digging her car keys out of her bag. “We’ll be back as soon as we can.” With that, she guides Allison towards the door, shutting it quietly after them.

Peter sighs and says, “Obviously, this is a difficult part for Allison as well as for us. Everyone lost so much.”

“If you want to take a break,” Stiles starts and Peter shakes his head.

“No, I think one discussion is better than two. Okay, what happened next.” He sighs again, running his hand through his hair. “Well, Scott and Allison started dating and Victoria knew that he was often with our pack, so I’m sure she jumped to conclusions. Chris was always reasonable, following the hunter’s code that we left humans alone and they left us alone. But…”

“And it wasn’t Scott’s fault at all,” Peter continues, looking at Scott, waiting until he looks up and makes eye contact with his alpha. “Victoria was against having a wolf date her daughter and Scott did nothing, other than be himself. She knew her father-in-law would hate the idea of wolves in the same city where they live, and that Talia had turned some humans, so she called him and they started plotting. A couple of months later, Gerard moved out here to stay with his family and then things started happening. The kids were being followed going to and coming home from school. Talia, Derek and I would turn around and Gerard or another hunter would be watching us.”

“They weren’t really doing anything, but we knew they were there. All the time,” Boyd says. “You’d turn around and someone would be following you. You could smell the gun and the wolfsbane.”

“After Gerard had been here for about a month, we got a call that he had Isaac. We already knew there was something wrong; there’s a bond between the alpha and their pack and Talia felt Isaac’s fear. And his pain. We were all on our way when Gerard called and told us where to find them.”

Peter pauses and sits silently, apparently lost in thought. “There was a fight, of course. We did outnumber them, but they had wolfsbane and Talia was mostly worried about the pack’s safety. We were able to get Isaac released and that helped us some; he wasn’t terribly injured, they didn’t have him long.”

“In the fight, Talia was shot. It was a special type of bullet, that sent wolfsbane through her and it went into her heart and… She died. I had tried to push her out of the way, but she was fighting one of Gerard’s men and I couldn’t stop her. I couldn’t save her.”

Stiles feels a shiver go through Derek and now Isaac has an arm over his shoulder, both with their heads bowed. Stiles takes a chance and puts his hand on Derek’s leg, not sure that any comfort from him is wanted. He’s new to this group, but the pain of losing a parent is familiar to him.

Peter visibly steadies himself and says, “What we didn’t know, is that during the previous months, Chris’s sister Kate had made friends with Laura; more than friends, they were lovers. And while we were here fighting, Kate was in New York and that night, as they’d planned, Kate slit Laura’s throat and killed her. Part of the plan obviously was that Talia would die, and the alpha power would either be lost or it would go to Derek. And because we could feel Laura’s death as well as Talia’s they expected they’d be able to easily overpower Derek.”

“I couldn’t, I didn’t know what it was…” Derek mumbles and Peter just shakes his head.

“You couldn’t have prepared for that, none of us were. It was overwhelming, Stiles. It’s a physical pain when a pack member dies. This was two of our pack, and our blood family and our alpha all at the same time. It’s as though the alpha power realized that Derek wouldn’t be able to absorb the power just then and it went to me.” He shrugs and says, “I was holding my sister’s dying body in my arms and trying to think of how to get any of us out of there alive and felt Laura’s death and then felt that hit of power and strength over all of it.”

“We got out, obviously. We ended up injuring or killing their group of hunters. I bit Victoria. I was an alpha and I bit her and like the good little hunter she was, she chose to kill herself rather than be a wolf.” He stops and looks at his pack, and Stiles can see that he’s back to being the steely wolf he’s starting to get to know. “She didn’t do it then obviously, but back in their home, with or without Chris’ help. Gerard was shot and killed by ‘friendly fire’. I can’t guarantee it was Chris’ bullet, but…”

“Jesus Christ,” Stiles breathes. “That’s a… a lot of drama.”

“Yes, quite a bit. Understandably, it took a while for Allison to feel comfortable with us after her mother’s death. She originally blamed me for biting her. I think the turning point was her friendship with Lydia. Apparently all the deaths, so close together somehow triggered her latent banshee powers. Allison saw her friend was struggling, found out what she was experiencing and went to Scott who brought her in to us. And now they’re both full, trusted members of our pack.”

“And of course her father is trusted,” Kira says and nudges Scott in the ribs.

“Um hmm. He’s not my biggest fan, but he still supports us and still follows the hunter code,” Scott answers.

“No, but he is Derek’s biggest fan,” Danny says, grinning at Derek.

Derek crosses his arms over his chest and says, “Yes, Chris and I are friends. That’s all.”

Erica raises and eyebrow and replies, “Friends with benefits.”

“Erica,” Derek warns.

“Naked friends,” Kira offers and elbows Scott, who just grins.

Peter rolls his eyes and ignoring all the chatter, says, “So anyway, I think that tells you about how everyone joined the pack. Kira, our resident kitsune, moved to town about a year ago and of course found her way to us through Scott.”

“Excuse me, Daddy? Are you forgetting your only _real_ child?” Erica says, batting her eyelashes at Peter.

He just sighs and shakes his head. “True, in a moment of what must have been insanity, I turned Erica. Honestly, Stiles, when I met her she seemed harmless. And stop calling me Daddy.”

“You love me,” Erica states, settling back into Boyd’s chest as he kisses her temple. “I was kind of friends with Isaac back when he was a lonely loser. And then he went into foster care and started looking pretty slick and playing sports and hanging out with Scott and Allison and the cool kids. So I asked him what his secret was and he told me.”

“With Peter’s permission,” Isaac says. “Erica had epilepsy and there were times that…”

“That I was out of school for days at a time. Over and over again. And my parents wouldn’t let me out of their sight and I was a big old mess. But that’s a long time ago and now I’m good. I’m healthy and have my pack.”

“She’s a brat,” Derek states, but gives her a smile. “And Allison and Lydia are back.”

“Maybe tomorrow you’ll tell us a little more about your family and foxes, Stiles,” Peter asks, standing and stretching. He carries his chair back to the dining room and says, “If you have any questions, let us know.”

“Thanks, yeah. There’s not a lot to say though, like I said, we don’t have a big family.” Stiles follows the group into the kitchen and takes a stack of plates that Kira hands him, following Scott into the dining room. “I do have one question though; what happened to the girl who killed Laura? Kate?”

Everyone freezes and Stiles hears rumbling growls from around the room, from several of the wolves.

“Kate Argent.” Peter’s words are slurred around his mouthful of fangs. “Kate Argent is still alive and out there somewhere.”

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunday with the pack, a little family history and back home.

Apparently, Sunday is a lazy day for the pack. When Stiles wakes up around ten and stumbles his way into the kitchen, Peter, Lydia and Isaac are the only ones there. 

“Morning,” he mutters, pouring himself coffee and slumping in a chair by the table.

“Good morning, Sunshine,” Peter coos, smirking, but not bothering to look up from the business section of the paper. “Sleep well?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Stiles answers, pulling the comic section over towards him. “I haven’t read the Sunday comics in forever.” Everyone’s quiet for a couple of minutes, sipping coffee and generally trying to wake up.

“I guess we should start getting breakfast going,” Lydia says finally, standing and stretching. She straightens her hair, where it’s fallen out of the elastic holding it back in a ponytail.  “Whose turn is it to cook? Where’s the list?” she asks, yawning as she goes towards the kitchen cabinet that keeps the grocery list.

“I’ll cook,” Stiles says. “I mean if no one minds. I don’t cook a lot, but I’m good with breakfasts.”

“I don’t think anyone will argue. Just remember, quantity is important,” Isaac says, settling back down at the table with the entertainment section of the paper.

“Do you need help?” Peter asks, plainly studying Stiles as he opens the fridge, looking at the offerings. “You’re not meant to do chores this weekend; I thought we’d discuss that later today or even next weekend.”

Stiles shrugs and pulls out a carton of eggs and what looks like half a ham. “Not a problem, but thanks. I’m hungry and I’d rather cook than, I dunno, clean toilets or something.”

“Go for it,” Isaac says, not looking up.

“Because Sunday breakfast is one of his items,” Lydia says, hovering next to Stiles. “Can I help you find anything? Pans or spatulas or something?”

She opens cabinets and pulls out pans as Stiles requests them. “French toast okay? And ham and …” he roots through another cabinet and says, “Fried potatoes?  Is that enough? I can scramble some eggs as well.”

“No need, that sounds fine. Sunday brunch is the big pack meal of the day and then there’s usually just snacking until dinner. For those who are still around,” Peter answers. He’s pushed the paper away and sits and watches his newest pack member move easily around his kitchen, obviously comfortable with his tasks. “Erica is in charge of the chore list; later we’ll make sure that she puts you in for Sunday breakfast if that’s what you’d like. Since Isaac is here every day, and does general clean ups, I don’t think he needs a reassignment.”

“Yes!” the boy mutters, giving a small fist pump, still not looking up.

“I do try to be fair and you’re allowed to discuss concerns, you know,” Peter says to him, leaning over to scruff his hair, getting a grin.

Meanwhile, Lydia shows Stiles where they keep the fruit and helps him with cutting melons and strawberries into a bowl. Peter watches, small smile on his face as the two teens move easily around each other, dicing pepper and onions and putting them with the potatoes into the oven.

Gradually, the rest of the pack drifts into the kitchen, drawn by the smell of food and coffee. Everyone’s in various states of dress and some have showered and some not. Stiles sets up another pot of coffee when Danny gets the last half-cup and snarls quietly.

“Sorry, dude, maybe if you got up at a decent time,” Stiles says, shrugging as he pulls a plate of French toast out of one of the ovens where it’s been keeping warm. He used two loaves of bread and eighteen eggs, but he’s still worried that there may not be enough to satisfy everyone. 

“Damn, this is good,” Boyd says, taking another bite of the potatoes on his plate. “Isaac, when did you learn how to cook? This actually has some flavor.”

“Well, fuck you, too and I didn’t make it,” Isaac says.

“Who cooked?” Kira asks, putting slices of ham on Scott’s plate. “Everything’s really good.”

“Stiles cooked. He said he’ll be in charge of Sunday brunch from now on,” Peter says, smiling warmly at Stiles. “And everything is excellent, thank you.”

“Umm, it is good, thanks, Mom,” Erica smirks at him, rubbing her eyes as she dishes up a mound of fruit on her plate.

“Let’s not do that, okay?” Stiles says, “Not if you want me to continue cooking.”

“Everything’s great, thank you, Stiles.” Allison takes a triangle of toast and says, “You were going to tell us a bit about your family.” She checks with Peter and after she gets his nod, she asks, “Do you feel like talking now?”

“Umm, okay,” he says, fixing himself another cup of coffee and passing the pot down the table. “I’m not sure what you want to know about. It’s my mom’s family; they’re foxes going back six generations. Mostly they married other foxes; there’s only been a human or half-human in the family every other generation.”

“You said that your relatives weren’t happy with your mom marrying your dad?” Scott asks as he reaches over to grasp Kira’s hand.

He swallows and looks down into his cup. “No, they weren’t. She was supposed to marry someone else, someone her family approved of, but she met my dad while she was in college and … no going back.”

“So she was supposed to have an arranged mariage?” Peter asks quietly.

“Yes, to a fox. Not quite the same as this,” he says, gesturing around the room. “First, it was supposed to be a fox, and they’d introduce her to several people. They knew other fox families and the idea was there’d be some parties to have them meet and someone would click. But they didn’t count on mom’s independence or I guess my dad.”

This is something Peter will want to talk with the boy about later, but now he smells only of sorrow and Peter doesn’t want him to associate that with his pack. He catches Scott’s eye and raises an eyebrow, hoping the boy will understand.

Thankfully he does, and changes the subject. “So when you’re not in your fox form, can you, uh, do you smell better? I mean, is your sense of smell better? Than a regular human’s sense of smell?”

“No, not really. Is your sense of smell better than a human’s, even when you’re not a wolf?” Stiles asks, and Peter notes his scent lightens.

“Sure,” Erica answers. “Pretty much everything we have as wolves, we have now. Speed, smell, hearing…” She pauses and glances over at Isaac, who is picking at the last of the breakfast potatoes. “Isaac said you didn’t hear him behind you and he startled you. So you’re pretty much a human unless you’re a fox?”

Stiles bristles and answers, “Yeah. I’m a human or a fox. That’s about it, sorry it’s not flashier.”

“As someone who is always a human, I think turning into a fox is pretty impressive,” Allison says, reaching over to grab the coffee pot and pouring herself the last half cup. “Do you have that in between phase like the wolves do?”

“What in between phase?” Stiles asks. He lets his eyes flash gold and his teeth turn into tiny sharp teeth before he turns back to normal. “That?”

Derek shifts into his beta form, smirking as Stiles sits back in his chair, mouth a large O. “It’s called the beta form. We’re stronger in this form than as a human,” he says, showing Stiles his claws.

“No. No, we definitely do not do that,” Stiles says, leaning forward towards Derek. “Dude, where are your eyebrows? That’s just kind of weird.”

“Hey, do your eyes again,” Boyd requests, watching as Stiles complies. “Your pupils look like a cat – slits instead of round.”

“Like a fox. And I can see really well at night, not sure if that’s something special,” Stiles says, looking around the table as the wolves let their eyes flash. “I heal a little faster as a fox than a human, I guess. Kira, you don’t … you don’t shift like they do?”

“No, it’s…” she looks at Scott for support and of course he takes her hand again.

“She can control electricity!” he exclaims. “Well, she’s trying to, it’s kind of new to her. So far, she make a light bulb light and she can kind of...” he looks over at her and shrugs before he continues, “She can overwhelm the power system and can short out the whole house.”

“That sounds…” Stiles starts and shrugs. “Cool, but kind of dangerous?”

“She’s working on it,” Peter says and pushes his chair back from the table. “So what does everyone have planned for the rest of the day?”

Stiles listens as they discuss their plans, from finishing homework, to movies and shopping and doing things with their families. Which is good, it means (hopefully) that he’ll be able to spend time with his dad later on.

“What would you like me to do?” he asks Peter, as everyone carries plates into the kitchen. Boyd and Erica are already starting to do the dishes, so apparently the cook doesn’t need to clean, which is a relief.

Peter moves through the crowd in the kitchen, and Stiles sees the casual touches as they pass. “I thought we might take a walk through the preserve, if you’d like.”

“A run, like shifted?” he asks, letting his eyes flash. It occurs to him that he’s probably done that more in the last three days than he has in months.

“I thought just a walk like this; it’s a bit easier to talk without fangs.” Peter studies him for a minute, catching a brief bit of disappointment that blends into curiosity.

“Sure. Let me run to my room and get my shoes,” Stiles says and runs up the stairs while Peter smiles after him.

Derek looks at Peter, with an eyebrow raised. “He said ‘my room’.”

Peter nods, and catches Boyd as he passes, pressing his face into his beta’s neck. Boyd shuts his eyes, breathing deeply before they both let go. His pack is coming together nicely.

 

“Do you get out here a lot?” Stiles asks as they walk. He thinks this might be where they ran yesterday, but things look different when you’re six feet talk versus two feet tall.

“Unfortunately, not every day. I try to get out, but it doesn’t happen as often as I’d like. Maybe you’ll encourage me,” Peter says, looking at the young man next to him. He can smell this is the path they ran yesterday, leading to the lake. It’s not too long of a walk, and the ground is mostly flat, so neither of them will break a sweat.

“It’s nice here, I do like it,” Stiles says looking around as they walk. “Arizona was…hot and dry and half the time if I tried to run, I’d just burn my feet.”

“I can’t imagine that. It gets hot here, but there’s still the woods to keep cool.” They’re at the lake and he sits on the rock that Stiles napped on the day before. “Sit,” Peter says patting the rock next to him.

Stiles makes sure to leave enough room so they’re not touching as he sits next to Peter. “I have something for you.” Peter digs into a front pocket of his jeans and ///pulls out a key ring with two keys on it. “For the front door,” he says, handing them to Stiles.

“Wow. Um, thanks. Are you sure?”

Peter shrugs and says, “Of course. All pack members have keys to the house. And you’re welcome to come over at any time. Come over during the week, if you want to. There’s usually someone over if you need help with homework or just to have private time.”

“I get private time at home; Dad works a lot,” Stiles says, studying the keys. They’re on a plain wire circle, so simple but it seems like such a huge thing. “You’re sure about this? It seems kind of trusting for someone who’s already seen two pack members killed.”

Peter glances away, shutting his eyes and taking a breath. “As I said, it’s normal for pack members to have access to the house. Everyone in the pack has keys, so you should, too. Besides, it’s not like I don’t know where you live. You and your father. Or where your father works.” He looks over at Stiles, and even outside, he smells his scent, strong and vinegary. “Your Aunt, your Uncle, your two cousins in Michigan. Grandmother Stilinski in Palm Desert.”

Stiles jumps up and turns to Peter, snarling with his eyes flashing. “You fucker! I was thinking you might be okay and now you’re threatening my family? What is wrong with you? I’m here, I told you I’d be here and you start with your…”

“I’m not threatening anyone, Stiles,” Peter says calmly, reaching out to take Stiles’ wrist.

Stiles jerks his arm away and growls deep in his throat, shaking his head.

“Stiles, I’m trying to tell you that I know you. I know your family. _That’s_ why I’m not concerned about giving you keys to the house ‘too early’ or something like that. I do protect my pack and all of us will be safe because I know my pack and I know their families.” He holds out his hand again and looks at Stiles pointedly.  “Sit back down, please.”

“Nana doesn’t know,” Stiles whispers, scraping a hand through his hair. “She doesn’t know about me or my mom or anything. She goes and gets her hair done once every other week and she and her friends meet and knit and drink wine every Thursday. She doesn’t know anything.”

“And she doesn’t need to,” Peter says and pulls Stiles down next to him, so they’re sitting close this time, thighs touching. He keeps his hand on Stiles’ arm, not restricting him, just rubbing circles on his wrist, feeling his pulse gradually slow down. “Perhaps sometime we can visit her or your other relatives. Sometime in the future, if you’d like. After college perhaps, or later. We can visit them, we can travel elsewhere.” He shrugs and sits quietly for a minute. “We’ll have time, we don’t need to make all our plans now.”

“Plans for the future? You know I don’t know what I’ll be doing over the summer? I’m not sure about where I’ll go to college yet,” Stiles says, shaking his head. “Shit, I’m not sure what to have for dinner this week.”

Peter chuckles quietly and says, “I understand. My life’s changed quite a bit, too, you know. We’ll figure it out, as I said, there’s time. But you’re pack and I think you know it. I saw how you let Scott scent mark you as we left and how you scented Erica and Boyd before they went out shopping.”

“He touched me and I touched them, it’s not like we were making out.” Stiles shrugs and then his phone chirps. He pulls it out of his pocket, saying, “My dad sent a text. He wants to know when I’ll be home.”

“Hmm,” Peter says, standing and brushing off the back of his pants and moving towards the path back to the house. “You’ll need to get closer to the house to get a consistent signal. Then tell him you’ll be home soon.”

“Okay,” Stiles answers, putting his phone back, Peter’s house keys safe in his other pocket. “I did tell him I thought I’d be home for dinner.”

Peter nods. “I’m sure he’d like that. And you need to go school tomorrow.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.”

They’re silent on the way back to the house, other than occasionally pointing out a particular plant or animal. It’s getting chilly as the sun starts to set, but overall, it’s comfortable just being together. Stiles isn’t sure if that’s strange or not.

 

At the house, Stiles packs quickly, leaving a couple of things he didn’t wear in his dresser drawer. Next weekend, as Peter suggested, he’ll bring a few more things to leave there; keeping clothes at this house makes the most sense.

“Good night, Stiles.” Peter’s standing next to the jeep, small smile on his face. “I’ll see you on Friday, if not sooner. Remember, you’re welcome here anytime.”

“Night, Peter.” It’s only been a couple of days, but leaving seems so strange. He waves to Derek on the porch and drives back to his own home.

 

His father meets him in the driveway and Stiles isn’t even out of the jeep before he’s pulled into a tight hug.

“Oh, hey, Dad,” he says, with his face pressed into his father’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Dad, I’m okay.” He stands and pats his father’s back, not moving until the other man loosens his grip.

Andrew’s unselfconscious as he swipes at his eyes, nodding and looking for any visible damage to his son. “You’re okay? You’re sure?”

“I’m fine, Dad,” Stiles says turning to go back into the jeep and pull out his bag. “Let’s go into the house and I’ll get dinner started.”

“I’ve got it started, Stiles,” Andrew says, taking one of the bags from his son. He notices it’s lighter than when Stiles left, but other than raising an eyebrow, he doesn’t say anything.

The house is warm and comfortable, with something that smells good coming from the kitchen.

“Wow, I didn’t expect…” The kitchen table is set and a quick look shows Stiles there’s chicken breasts in the oven, along with a pot of corn on a back burner. A bag of microwave ready rice is on the counter to complete a pretty normal and nutritious meal for the two of them. Something that Stiles would make on a Sunday night. “You’re going to tell me you ate like this all weekend?”

Andrew shrugs and says, “I may have indulged in some comfort food while you were out, can you blame me? So sit and tell me what happened. You’re okay, right? Do you need to go to the hospital or anything?”

Stiles scoffs, rubbing his nose as he feels his face heat. “No. Absolutely nothing like that.” He opens the fridge and pulls out the pitcher of iced tea his father made, probably using Mom’s recipe so it’s both extra sweet and lemony.

“What happened, how was it? Is there a way to get you out of it?”

The kitchen is warm and feels smaller than it used to, the air stifling with the windows closed and the oven on. Suddenly he’s angry and he knows it’s irrational to be mad at his mother for not being here and mad at his father for not knowing more about shifters and their history and just mad at everything. He’s not quite 18 and his biggest worry should be deciding which college to go to and who he’ll invite to the winter formal in January. He shouldn’t have to worry about making sure his father eats right and that he doesn’t worry about Stiles. He shouldn’t have to worry about the fact that he’s basically werewolf engaged before he’s done with high school.

“Stiles?” his father asks, pulling him out of his thoughts. He looks so worried himself and Stiles sees the concern and love in his eyes.

“Sorry, it’s just a little overwhelming,” he says, taking a deep breath. He feels his eyes flood, and quickly scrubs them, looking away. “Sorry. I don’t know why…”

“It’s okay,” Andrew says quietly. “Even if nothing bad happened, I know the whole thing’s been, well, let’s just say intense.”

Stiles chuckles and pulls a paper napkin from the ceramic napkin holder on the kitchen table. It’s been there forever, something his mother bought from a craft fair years ago. “Yeah, you could say that.” He takes another deep breath and sips his tea, looking around the kitchen. “Okay, I told you a bit about Friday, so let me tell you about the pack and then I’ll tell you about Saturday and today.”

Stiles talks and Andrew asks a few questions as they finish cooking together and eat dinner. 

“Well, at least you finished your homework, kiddo,” Andrew jokes as they settle in the living room. He checks his watch and says, “And tomorrow is a school day, so try to get to bed on time. Maybe stay off the internet for one night?”

“Believe it or not, I do just want to go to bed,” Stiles answers. And it’s the truth; it’s not late, but he can barely keep his eyes open.

 

Later, he’s in his bed, which is comfortable and familiar. And if the house is just a little too quiet, he’s got time to get used to that again.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles gets more comfortable with his new pack. And there's cuddling.

The next couple of weekends go pretty much the same. Maybe there’s a little less heart-to-heart and more just hanging out, but it’s good. It’s relaxing and it’s also nice having people around. He doesn’t want to admit it, but it feels like family.

And the pack seems to really like him. He thinks they’re not just putting up with him because Peter says they have to, but they seem to actually enjoy his company. It’s not something he’s used to. Maybe it’s because he’s always had to keep secrets or that his father’s always been at least a Deputy if not the actual Sheriff. Maybe it’s because he’s always put up a wall of sarcasm, but he hasn’t had a lot of friends. But now, the pack seeks him out at school and even at home.

At first his father’s suspicious, also not used to Stiles with a group of friends. Scott comes over first, carrying video games and bags of tortilla chips.  Originally, Stiles had tried to stay mad at him, but it’s impossible to stay mad at Scott. He’s just too damn sweet and does the best puppy eyes in the world.

When Andrew comes home and sees Boyd and Erica piled on the couch along with his son, playing video games and ramming elbows into each other, he shrugs. That’s okay, they’re both polite to him and clearly into each other. He thinks they might be part of a plan to make him think the pack is normal and good for his son; if so, it’s working. Stiles looks happier than he has in months – maybe even years.

Allison and Lydia are both sweet and smart, the kind of girls who normally would never pay attention to him. But they make sure he’s sitting with them at lunch and Allison studies with him, sitting on his couch, so he’ll be ready for a French quiz. His father comes home and smiles, puzzled that his son’s sitting with a pretty girl. She gives him a sunny smile and calls him Sheriff and when he orders pizza for dinner, she moves easily around the kitchen, pulling out paper plates and using paper towels for napkins, even though he suspects she comes from a cloth napkin family.

 

It’s a Wednesday after school and Stiles is supposed to be doing his homework. He’s has been at Peter’s for three weekends now, and the pack’s been to his house, usually in groups of two or three. He’s comfortable with them and knows Peter’s been trying to make him comfortable with the new arrangement. And he is – so much so that tonight when his father’s working late, he decides to go over to the house. There’s bound to be someone there he can talk with or study with or at least, there’s better food at the Hale’s.

 

When he parks his jeep ( _in his spot_ , he thinks) he’s sees a couple of cars there as well. Derek’s flashy Camaro and Lydia’s more responsible, but still expensive sedan. This is good, not too many people over, and Lydia’s helpful with homework in every class he has.

“Hey, anyone here?” he calls as he enters, using his key for the first time. There’s no immediate answer, so maybe Derek and Peter are in the woods. Peter’s car is usually in the garage for the night; Derek’s is there as well at the end of the day, even if it means he needs to push Isaac into moving it. The thrill of driving the Camaro wore off quickly for the younger wolf, when most of his options to drive it involve running errands.

Stiles goes into the kitchen and checks the fridge to find what’s leftover from the last couple of dinners. Peter cooks in quantity, so there’s usually at least a meal or two for lunches the next day or a bedtime snack.

He finds a container with leftover lasagna and whispers, “Score,” as he puts a healthy portion in a bowl and puts it in the microwave to heat. It’s not the creamy, cheesy version Peter made for him before. This one is full of meat, as evidenced by the lumpy surface that resembles the lunar surface, but cheesier.

He’s halfway through his portion when Lydia enters the kitchen, hand on her hip and arched eyebrow raised. “So this is where you’re hiding? I thought you’d come upstairs and say hello at the very least.”

“I was planning to,” Stiles answer, covering his mouth to hide how much food he’s stuffed inside. He chews and swallows quickly, taking a fast sip of his iced tea to help soothe his burnt tongue. “I just didn’t want to take this upstairs, cause, you know, I’d probably spill it and besides, I didn’t think I should have smelly food in the library and…”

“Well, thank you for that,” Lydia answers. She gets a glass from a cabinet and pours herself some tea, topping off Stiles’ glass. “Scott and Isaac were upstairs earlier, supposedly studying and then decided to have a flatulence contest,” she rolls her eyes and sniffs delicately. “Peter and Derek escorted them out and I think they’re having a run now. I doubt it’s as fun as some of the others playful romps through the forest.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll stay in the house tonight, I don’t want to get trampled,” Stiles says. He rinses his dishes in the sink and put them in the dishwasher, checking that it’s full. There’s a chance that there’ll be a few things added as people snack in the evening, so he puts in some soap and sets the timer to go off while everyone’s in bed.

Lydia doesn’t say anything as she watches him move around the room, familiar with both items in the kitchen and how the pack operates. “So why are you here?” she asks. “Just scavenging for food?”

“Nope, not that that’s not a good reason,” he says, picking up his backpack. “I’m hoping you’ll help me with a couple of chemistry questions. If you have time?”

“Sure, come on, we’ll go back upstairs,” she says, turning on what Stiles is assumes is a designer heel.

“It’s safe?”

“Windows have been opened for an hour and I’ve lit a candle. I think it’ll be okay,” she says over her shoulder as she make her way up the stairs to the top floor.

 

Stiles has his chemistry questions answered and they’re working on an assignment for their advanced placement calculus class when the library door opens and the wolves enter. It’s easy for Stiles to tell them apart now and he greets them all, including Peter who pushes to the front to nose at Stiles’ hand.

“Hey, Peter, hope you don’t mind I came by for some homework help,” he says, running a hand down Peter’s back. He’s very aware that it’s Peter in there, the same way he’s aware when he’s in his fox form. But still, it’s easier to touch him when he’s a wolf; it seems less loaded, but still lets them scent each other.

And Peter does scent him, standing with his front paws on the chair arm next to Stiles so he can put his nose against Stiles’ neck, taking a gentle nip that makes Stiles squirm.

“Cut it out, your nose is cold!” he says, pushing Peter away. “Everyone sufficiently disciplined?” He looks around the room and both Scott and Isaac are hanging their heads.

“Isaac, Stiles needs to be quizzed in his French homework; perhaps if you could talk, you could help,” Lydia says to the wolf who smiles and looks towards his alpha.

Something tells him it’s approved and the wolf trots out of the library, Scott and Derek at his heels.

“I heard you two were bad little doggies,” Stiles says, as he sits on the couch in front of the fireplace.

“That’s no way to act if you want help with your homework,” Isaac answers, sitting next to him. “Do you want to be quizzed or not?”

“Please. If you’re not too tired.” Stiles grins and opens his French text book to the chapters that will be on their test tomorrow.

Scott sits on the other couch by Lydia, yawning broadly. “It was a good run, actually. Especially if you enjoy fear. You’re not running tonight?”

“No, not tonight,” he says, watching as Peter enters, smoothing down his freshly washed hair. “I just need a little help with homework and then I’ll go back home. A run this weekend sound good though.”

“Whatever you need. Is your father at home tonight?” Peter’s very casual, sitting down on the couch across from Stiles, nice and close to the fireplace.

Stiles clears his throat and glances around the room, seeing everyone’s suddenly very busy with text books or phones or in Derek’s case, studying the ice cubes in his glass. “I don’t think he is; he’s been working more nights lately, since one of the deputies is on maternity leave.”

“It’s up to you,” Peter says, a study in nonchalance. “You have a room and you’re welcome to stay.” He picks up his book and opens it, slipping the bookmark into the back cover.

“I’ll call my dad and let him I’m staying over. I should be able to get to school and I have clothes here…” Stiles smiles and leaves, his feet thumping as he goes down the stairs, presumably to his room.

“Happy, Peter?” Derek asks, picking up a discarded text book and paging through it.

“I’m content,” Peter says, as he smiles into his book.

 

Stiles’ father isn’t thrilled that he’s staying over in the middle of the week, but understands that Stiles craves company. And he understands that Stiles in Peter’s pack is inevitable. There’s no running or contract renegotiations or ways out. Andrew’s still nervous, but Stiles returns to him on Sunday nights relaxed, with homework completed and sleeps through most nights without nightmares. So as much as he hates the idea, he knows the pack is good for his foxy son.

 

Peter wasn’t lying about feeling content. And it’s no small thing for him, lying in his bed checking on his pack during the middle of the week. Allison and Lydia went home to sleep at their own houses, but he knows they’ll be back over the weekend. It’s taken some time getting used to the Argent girl in his house, but she’s not like her aunt or her mother. She and her father are needed to help keep the balance, to help with wolves who can’t control themselves and can put them all in danger. But unless those wolves are in his territory, she’s calm, just a smart and loyal member of his pack. And since Derek is apparently dating her father (or something, their scent says it’s something), it’s good to have both of them in the pack.

Derek’s in his room with Isaac; the boy’s concerned about going away to college. He’s been happy here, feeling safe and loved for the first time in a long time. Derek’s been talking with him about community college or online courses – whatever it’ll take to help Isaac be comfortable. They wouldn’t throw him out if he decides to work part time and go to college part time or if he wants to skip college altogether and go to work. He just needs some time to figure out what he wants to do.

Kira and Scott are in Scott’s room, probably getting ready to have sex. They’re not as confident with their sexuality as Erica and Boyd are, who are post-coital content and drifting off.

Stiles is in his room, sleeping. It’s a restless sleep, like he has many nights. He has nightmares, and his panic often wakes Peter up. Peter hasn’t gone to him, trying to respect Stiles’ privacy; hoping he’ll discuss it when he’s ready.  

Peter focuses on Stiles, listening to him shift in the bed, and muttering something unintelligible. He wants to go to him as he would for anyone in his pack. This pull is even stronger, as it’s his mate who’s upset and Peter wants to stop the dream and fix whatever’s behind it.

After a few minutes, he hears Stiles gasp as though he’s been drowning and is able to take his first breath of air. His heart’s still pounding and the feeling of panic is still there – so strong, Peter can feel Derek shifting in his room. It makes Peter proud how his pack wants to be there to support their newest member, but of course everyone will wait for Peter to give permission.

Suddenly, there’s a quiet knock on the door between their rooms and Stiles slips inside. “Hi. Were you sleeping? I guess not, since you’re awake…” his voice trails off and he scratches his head.

“I’m awake,” Peter confirms gently. “Are you okay? You had a nightmare?”

Stiles stiffens slightly and then deflates, shoulders slumping. “Yeah. Is it okay…Do you mind…”

“Would you like to talk about it?” Peter asks, sitting up and patting the bed next to him.

“No, not really. Not now.” He looks around the room, taking small steps closer to the bed. “Is it okay if I sleep in here? I’ll sleep in the chair or on the floor or…”

“Of course it’s okay, Stiles,” Peter says, folding down the blanket. “But you’ll sleep here, I’m not having you sleep on the floor.”

Stiles looks at the bed and the plush comforter. Peter’s hair is messed and his face is relaxed, with a crease in his cheek from the pillow case. “You’re sure it’s okay? I squirm a lot.”

“You’re pack, Stiles. I don’t know about foxes, but wolves crave company. You’d be doing me a favor,” Peter says and taps the bed again.

Stiles’ lips twitch and he tries to keep from smiling. “That sounds a little like bullshit to me, but since you’re apparently my alpha, I won’t say anything.”

As Stiles gets under the covers and starts to get situated, Peter gets out of bed and moves towards his dresser. Stiles swallows and turns away, trying not to stare at the older man’s very shapely ass. “Umm, are you leaving? Because that kind of defeats the purpose.”

“No, I just thought I’d put something on,” he says, glancing over his shoulder as he pulls on a pair of plaid boxers.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you have to get dressed or anything. I mean, it’s your room and I just invited myself. Can you sleep with those on?” he asks, still looking away as a dressed Peter gets back into bed.

“I’ll be fine, thank you. When other pack members want to sleep in here, I do wear clothes.” Peter wiggles just a little, pulling the covers up to his chest and turning to face Stiles. “Unlike what your father might picture, it’s really not a giant orgy.”

“He doesn’t think that,” Stiles says, thinking that’s exactly what his father pictures, when he’s not thinking of mass murder. “He’s just pretty sure you’re molesting me.”

“I’m sure that his experience with criminals has made him cynical, but I said I wouldn’t touch you that way and I meant it,” Peter says, punching his pillow a bit to get comfortable. “But if you’d like, I’m not opposed to cuddling. I like it and I think you may need it.”

Stiles shrugs and turns his head away again. He gotten more cuddles here than he remembers getting since his mother died.

“It’s up to you,” Peter whispers before yawning. “Would you like to tell me what you dream about? I know this wasn’t your first nightmare.”

He doesn’t answer, but rolls on his side and backs into Peter, so he’s the little spoon against Peter’s firm warmth.

Peter puts an arm around him and pulls Stiles into his chest, dropping his face into the soft, damp flesh between Stiles’ neck and shoulder. “I won’t pressure you tonight,” Peter says, sniffing at the warmth there. “But this weekend, I’d appreciate it if you’d tell me what gives you such nightmares, so I can try to put a stop to them.”

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles spends another weekend with the pack and tells Peter about his past in Arizona.
> 
> NOTE: This chapter talks about bullying in high school where Stiles was injured. See notes at the end for more detailed warnings if you're concerned.

The weekend comes around quickly for once and Stiles isn’t unhappy that he’s spending it with the pack. And with Peter, if he’s honest with himself. The wolf is funny, kind, and gentle with his pack, at least from everything Stiles has seen. He hasn’t pushed Stiles in any way, and he’s made Stiles feel welcome. If the thought of being his mate is something Stiles has shoved to the back of his mind, well, that’s his business.

Friday night is the usual, and Stiles is there a little before six o’clock, this time with brownies in hand. He makes breakfasts on Sunday morning and does a bit of clean up, but sometimes he’d like to feel more involved with the pack and brownies seem like a good start. If they’re liked, and they will be because who doesn’t like brownies, maybe making Saturday night’s dessert can be his thing.

After dinner, they go up to the library. Isaac has homework and Stiles wants to read some of the histories that Peter’s collected. Danny’s over, doing some work on a project for a college class he’s taking – something computery that’s beyond Stiles’ understanding, although he nods like it makes sense.

“This was written by a pack’s emissary; it’s interesting, but I’m not certain it’s one-hundred percent accurate,” Peter says, pulling a book off the shelf to hand to Stiles. “If you want something about an emissary, I’d try this one.” He chooses a different book, flipping through it for a minute before giving it to Stiles. “This one was written by a wolf and has information about their emissary; I’ve read some of the stories in other books, so I think it’s probably all true.”

“Thanks. Is it okay if I take it home?”

“Of course, Stiles. Take anything that interests you.” Peter smiles at him, patting him on the shoulder before he moves away to sit on a loveseat facing the fireplace.

Stiles looks at the books a while longer, picking one to start on tonight. He stops for a second and then sits next to Peter, leaning against the arm of the loveseat. Peter doesn’t look up from his book, but he smiles and keeps reading.

After an hour or so, he yawns and stretches. It’s still early, but with the long week behind him and a belly full of pot roast and mashed potatoes, (and he has to get the recipe from Peter so he can make it for his dad) he’s tired.

The fire is still going and everyone’s quietly reading or doing whatever they’re doing. Stiles glances over at Peter and takes a pillow from the couch to lie down in front of the fireplace. Yes, it’s a gas fire, but it’s still warm and cozy.

Stiles doesn’t remember falling asleep, but the next thing he knows, there’s whispers above him and the obvious flash of a camera.  Danny’s squatted down next to him, grinning as he takes a picture of Stiles sleeping with his head on Isaac’s furry flank and Derek’s head on his leg. He could be annoyed, but surrounded by two wolves and a warm fire, he just sighs and shuts his eyes.

“Send me a copy of the pics, please?” he asks as he curls back into the warmth and comforting feeling of family. “Prove to my dad that I’m not getting killed when I’m here.”

“Killed by cuddles,” Danny says, and Stiles hears another click before he falls back asleep.

 

Saturday goes the way Saturdays do at the pack house. A few chores in the morning, laundry gets started and Stiles makes a batch of dough for cinnamon rolls he’ll bake in the morning as part of brunch. After folding clean clothes and putting away the groceries that Derek brought in, Peter suggests they go for a run – just the two of them.

 

He hasn’t run before with Peter and at first he’s a little nervous. Stiles doesn’t know if Peter’s run with a fox before and he feels very tiny compared to him. Peter as a wolf is huge, bigger even then Derek. He’s shades of light and dark gray with a white face and still has the blue eyes Stiles is used to.

Stiles runs ahead and looks behind him seeing Peter jogging along, apparently at no rush. He quickly catches up with Stiles and nudges the fox with his nose, taking a new path. It’s interesting with some new smells and he races along again, keeping track of the wolf moving through the trees next to him.

Stiles runs back, checking with Peter every few minutes. He taps Peter to get his attention, and crouches down, hoping Peter understands he wants to race. Peter nods and crouches a little as well, and then nods, once and twice and on three they both take off. Stiles thinks he’s ahead, running as fast as he can, but Peter shoots past him. When Peter circles back, he’s not even out of breath and he drops a fat brown mouse he’s caught for Stiles to eat.

He’s not really hungry after a good Saturday lunch, but this is a gift from his alpha. It’s more than food, it’s a sign he’s being taken care of and Stiles gobbles it down, smacking his lips at the warm snack.

After his snack, they keep moving through the preserve. Sometimes Peter leads and sometimes Stiles leads – checking to be sure Peter’s still with him. Peter obviously has some objective in mind, not where Stiles has been before on any of his runs with the pack.

They’ve been moving for about an hour when Peter slows down and gives a quiet huff to get Stiles’ attention. He pushes through some shrubs and Stiles follows him into a small cave. The cave’s just slightly larger than the inside of Derek’s Camaro and Peter goes into the back and comes back with a backpack in his mouth that he puts in front of Stiles. He pushes the bag towards Stiles and uses his snout to show Stiles that it’s open. Stiles looks inside and sees it’s full of clothes and there’s a handwritten note on top.

He looks over at Peter and sighs, and then shifts back to human, pulling out the paper and clutching it while he quickly pulls on the shirt and pants in the bag.

_Stiles, I need to know what happened, why you have nightmares and why you’re so often frightened. I’m sorry to push, but I want you to feel safe and be sure that we’re not doing anything to make it worse. I’ll stay wolf if it helps you talk, but please talk to me. Please._

Stiles looks over and Peter’s lying down towards the back of the cave. He sighs and sits down next to Peter. “You really know how to wreck a good afternoon, you know?”

Peter chuffs and shrugs, tapping the ground in front of him and lying back so Stiles can lean against him, using Peter as a warm, furry backrest. He lets Stiles get comfortable and gives him a couple of minutes. When he stays silent, Peter nudges him with his nose and gives his hand a lick.

“Okay, okay,” Stiles says, wiping his hand off on his jeans and exhaling loudly. “So. I started high school in Arizona, in my junior year. We’d been living in Minnesota for a few years and someone told my dad about the sheriff’s job in Mesa County and it was a promotion and we were tired of the cold, so it seemed like a good idea.  Minnesota was okay, I had a few friends, but it was time to leave.”

“So I’m at North Phoenix High and it kind of sucks. There’s a lot of jocks and I’m not much of an athlete as a human. And new and the Sheriff’s kid and let’s be honest, I’m kind of an asshole,” he says and Peter huffs beside him. Maybe it’s an agreement and maybe not.

“Back in Minnesota, I was on some sites, some chat rooms for kids of law enforcement and went back when I was in Phoenix. And went to a couple of other sites, and finally decided to go into some rooms for gay teenagers.” He glances over at Peter to see if there’s a reaction. Peter’s watching, but otherwise his expression hasn’t changed, just paying attention.

“I talked to a few people, it’s really just friends, you know. Talking with other guys who need someone to talk with. And then I clicked with this one guy, Robert.  He was really nice online and we liked the same movies and games and he lived in Arizona as well, in Tuba City, which is like four hours away. After a while we decided we should meet and decided to meet in Sedona, which is like in the middle.”

He stops for a minute and checks the bag and pulls out a bottle of water he saw in it earlier. After taking a drink, he offers it to Peter who shakes his head and nudges Stiles to continue.

“Pushy. So we met in Sedona and he was really cool. We’d skyped so knew what the other looked like and it was great in person, we had a good time, just hanging around. It’s a kind of popular place, kind of new-agey, but there’s some good restaurants and stuff there.” He sighs loudly and says, “So we said we’d do it again and a few weeks later, met again on a Saturday. Just hung out and walked around like tourists, drove a few places and talked and talked.”

Peter smells some embarrassment on Stiles and licks his hand again, hoping the boy knows it’s meant to be soothing. After a minute, Stiles nods and continues. “We were in his car and found a real secluded place and… you know, fooled around. Oral stuff happened.” He glances down at Peter before he continues, “It was all really… like it could be something, you know? We were talking about me telling my dad about us so that maybe Robert could spend the weekend. Not doing anything, just a chance to hang out and not have to be outside all the time. Maybe. Anyway, it was time for us to go and Robert drives me back to my car and gets out with me and before we leave, he kisses me and, it was really nice. Just… I liked him.”

Stiles sighs and shifts a little bit and Peter pushes his nose into Stiles’ hair, a combination of comfort and scenting him. He knows this is a hard topic for Stiles, and he’s really not happy hearing about this boy that Stiles had liked.

“So I get home and Sunday we skype as usual and things are cool. I think I’ll talk with my dad during the week. We had a guest bedroom and Robert would officially stay there, if my dad was cool with it. I don’t know if he would have been.”

After a long minute, he says, “Monday I drive to school and I’m walking in and kind of notice people looking at me, but like I said, I wasn’t the most popular guy, so whispers weren’t shocking. My dad would arrest someone over the weekend and then on Monday, I’d be somehow blamed cause someone else’s dad got caught driving drunk.” He exhales and Peter can smell his anxiousness; this is where the bad stuff is. “I walk in and people see me and they’re pointing and whispering and I round the hallway where my locker is and the walls are just papered with a picture that someone took of me and Robert kissing in Sedona. I saw my car behind us and that’s where it was. Like a hundred or more photocopies printed and taped everywhere. And on my locker, which also had ‘faggot’ and ‘queer’ written on it.”

“I didn’t know what to do, so I just got my books and went to my first class, just ignoring everything. I get to class and sit down and all the kids there are buzzing and my teacher is staring at me.” He shakes his head and Peter can hear him swallow and gets the scent of Stiles’ misery. “Class just gets started and then one of the counselors walks in and whispers with the teacher and they’re staring at me and then I’m told to go with the counselor.  We’re walking down the hall and most of the pictures are torn down, although there’s still tape on the walls and of course my locker is still painted on. We get to his office and he tells me to sit and I’m looking around and there’s this plaque on the wall that has a picture of a happy family and says ‘Let go, Let God’ and I’m thinking this guy won’t be of any help at all.”

Stiles stops and drinks more water, scrubbing a hand through his hair. He picks out a twig, probably caught from when they were running through the bushes earlier. “So he asks me if I know who put up the pictures or if I know what happened and he’s not really looking at me at all. He never asks if I’m okay or if this is the first time or any of that. And he says that my dad’s been called and I say something about it’s good because he’s the sheriff and he looks at me like he doesn’t connect those two things and says my dad’ll take me home. And I ask if I’m in trouble, and he says that my dad’ll be in soon.”

“Pretty soon I hear Dad outside and he comes in and gives me a hug and then starts yelling at everyone. There’s the counsellor in the room and the assistant principal and I think the principal was there, too. And he’s asking how this happened and what are they going to do and how are they investigating. And the principal says that they’ll investigate, but this hasn’t happened before and my dad says it happened now and then the vice principal says something… I don’t remember exactly how he phrased it, but it came down to that if my parents had raised _a normal_ child, this wouldn’t have happened.”

Stiles stops and slumps down further into Peter’s chest, and Peter rests his head on the boy’s lap. He knows there’s more, and the boy should take as much time as he needs, but Peter knows he won’t stop now. It’s poison and he needs to get it out.

“I spent the rest of the day at home and went back on Tuesday. Things were cleaned up, kind of. They’d painted over my locker, but it was this half-assed job; the paint didn’t match the other lockers and you could still kinda see what was written there. And people were still whispering, but not like the day before.”

“I had a couple of friends and the guy wouldn’t talk with me at all, which I guess I understand, guilt by association and all,” he says shrugging as he scratches Peter on the head. “I was friends with this one girl, Kelly, she was kind of nerdy, too, and she hung around, it wasn’t like anyone was going to call her a fag.”

“Most people ignored me like usual, or only muttered shit when they passed me, but there were these guys on the football team who apparently hated me. They had been assholes before, you know, knocking my books out of my hands and elbowing me in the hallway and names. I really didn’t know all the slang for homosexuals until they taught them all to me,” he says, smiling wryly. “Kelly heard one of them saying something about Sedona and she checked their Instagrams and found some photos from there and it looks like a couple of them were there the same weekend Robert and I were, so that’s probably how the picture showed up.”

Stiles snorts and rubs his eyes. “Oh and I told Robert what happened and he freaked out and said that he wasn’t ready to be out to his parents and said we probably shouldn’t see each other any more. So that was fun. At least my dad was cool, he was more worried and pissed off about what happened and how I was treated. My being gay wasn’t anything to him.” Stiles chuckles and shrugs, “I guess when you know your kid turns into a fox, who he’s attracted to isn’t that big of a deal.”

They sit quietly again and Peter smells Stiles’ scent turning more sour and when his shoulders start to shake, Peter licks his hand again and whines quietly.

“Sorry,” Stiles whispers, “Sorry, this is just…God, I’m just so weak and pathetic and my dad’s the sheriff but I can’t take care of myself and…”

Peter shifts and kneels next to Stiles, tilting his face towards him. “You’re not weak and none of that was your fault at all. None of it.”

Stiles leans into Peter’s touch, shutting his eyes and trying to regulate his breathing. When he’s calmer, Peter stands and quickly dresses in the clothes he put at the bottom of the back pack. When he sits back down next to Stiles, he asks, “Do you think you can tell me the rest? I’m guessing there’s more.”

Peter leans against one of the cave’s walls letting Stiles decide if he wants to sit next to him or facing him.  It’s unexpected, but pleasing when Stiles moves to sit between his spread legs, so his back is against Peter’s chest.

“This okay?” he asks quietly. “Easier to not look right at you. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Stiles,” Peter says breathing in scent of Stiles’ hair. “Whatever’s easiest for you.”

“Not talking at all an option?” he asks, reaching over to wrap one of Peter’s hands around his middle. “Probably not, eh?”

Peter shrugs and sighs. “Easiest to keep going, maybe?”

Stiles nods and says, “Yeah, guess so. Umm… okay, so it’s like mostly everyone else is back to ignoring me, except for the football guys. Most of the team were dicks, I mean, there were a few that just kept ignoring me and then there were the four that really seemed to hate me.”

Peter rubs Stiles’ stomach and Stiles leans his head back on Peter’s shoulder and continues, “So they would sometimes follow me around and say shit and…one time I ended up staying late after the last class to talk with my teacher about a project I was working on and when I left it turns out they were just leaving as well. And I heard them behind me and I’m trying to get out of the building without really having them see me and of course they do. I’m coming down from the second floor and hear them behind me and they start their usual crap. Asking why I’m late and who was I blowing and one of them says they should take me into the locker room cause it’s empty and then they can show me what they do with faggots. And I’m freaking out, you know, because it’s like are they going to kill me or, I dunno, what straight guys think will cure a faggot.”

Peter sits quietly, wishing he could take his mate’s mental pains as well as physical ones. “What happened?”

“I fell. Down the stairs. That’s what they said, we were arguing and I fell. I didn’t feel like, a hand shoving me down the stairs, but they were jostling me and anyway, the next thing I knew I was at the bottom of the staircase. And the teacher I was talking with was there and then I was in an ambulance.” He sighs again and they’re both quiet.

“Your injuries?” Peter asks finally.

Stiles touches his wrist and arm. “Broken wrist and my arm in a couple of places. And a concussion. I spent the night in the hospital. Cast for six weeks.” He pauses, and turns to look at Peter, the first time he’s done so while talking. “It was that or three weeks as a limping fox and that didn’t seem like a better solution. So six weeks in a cast.”

“What did the school do? Or your father?” Peter asks, fearing the worst.

Stiles turns back around, shrugging as he says, “The school said that I fell. There was no one who saw what happened and of course the guys who were there said I fell. One of the guys said they were ‘teasing’ me and I called one of them cute and then I tried to run away and fell.”

“And your father?” he growls.

“My dad made that noise, too. He wanted to sue everyone and have the guys who were there expelled and everything. But again, no proof,” Stiles says, rubbing Peter’s hand that’s still on his stomach.

Peter’s glad Stiles is facing away from him, so he doesn’t see his eyes flash. “So nothing happened to them? Nothing?”

“Nothing, not really,” Stiles shrugs again. “He tried, but… he was the sheriff with a pervert kid. And they were football players and one guy’s dad was an assistant DA and another guy’s dad was a city councilman.”

“And you ended up here?” Peter asks. He’s keeping his eyes shut and trying to keep his breathing even, but he wants to find these people who tortured someone in his pack (his mate) and rend their bodies and leave nothing to be buried.

“Yeah. I was able to finish out the year at home. Which was good, I did okay, I was able to email stuff in. They didn’t want me there any more than I wanted to be there,” Stiles answers and rubs Peter’s hand. “Claws,” he says, tapping on Peter’s hand. “Lose the claws, okay?”

Peter retracts his claws; he didn’t even know they were out. “Is that everything?”

Stiles nods and whispers, “Yeah, that’s it. Sorry. I’m sorry, you really picked the wrong pack mate. The wrong mate. I’m sorry.”

The wolf carefully turns Stiles around so they’re facing each other, and he gently lifts Stiles’ chin with two fingers, careful that his claws are sheathed. “You have nothing to be sorry for and you are absolutely the right person for our pack. And the right mate for me,” Peter says. “You did nothing wrong. Nothing.”

Stiles turns his head away and says, “I’m weak and and… I can’t defend myself. Even shifted, I’m only half the size of Erica for god’s sake. I made my dad move twice because of my problems, either because of bullies or because I wanted to shift more. That’s why we moved to Minnesota, for more room for me.”

“And I’m sure he did both of those moves happily. Parents do things to keep their children safe. And needing help doesn’t make you weak and the size of your fox doesn’t make you weak either.” He pauses, knowing Stiles won’t want to hear his next question. “Stiles, did you ever talk with anyone about this? A therapist or counselor?”

He snorts and shakes his head. “Nope. Well, one meeting. I didn’t like it and the therapist didn’t like me. He was all judgey and … I didn’t go back.”

“Hmm.” Peer takes a couple of breaths, and cards his fingers through Stiles’ hair. “Well, that’s only one person. There’s more than one therapist and if you wanted to try again, I could find someone for you.”

Stiles says nothing, but gently pulls away and stands, brushing dirt from his pants. “Should we get back? Is the rest of the pack coming over tonight?”

“Yes, around the usual time, I’m sure.” He kneels down, putting on his shoes and socks and checking the time. “Are you up to walking back? If you want, you can shift and I can carry you back.”

Stiles mutters, “Yeah, I need help again.”

“Stiles, it’s not…” Peter starts and then stops as Stiles shifts and the red fox pushes his way out of the pile of clothes on the floor of the cave.

Peter folds up Stiles’ clothes and piles them on top of the back pack and then holds it open. “Jump in, probably the easiest.”

Stiles looks at him and then gets into the back pack, holding on while Peter puts it on. “Ready?” he asks, glancing over his shoulder.

The fox nods and leans forward, licking Peter’s face and nipping his ear with small, sharp teeth.

“Brat,” Peter says, flashing his fangs back at Stiles. “Let me get us home.”

 

Peter stops just short of the house so he can let Stiles down to get dressed before he goes into the house. He knows Stiles enjoyed the trip home, both from the fox’s happy scent and the chattering in his ear as he runs.

But now, looking at the cars in the driveway, he’s slow getting dressed and the scent of anxiety is back.

“I think I might lie down before dinner, if that’s okay,” Stiles says quietly as they get to the front porch.

“Sure, that’s fine. And Stiles, thank you for telling me. If you want to talk more…”

He nods and says nothing as they go into the house.

The pack’s in the living room and look to Peter when Stiles passes them to go upstairs, his scent telling them _worried-sad-hopeful?-exhausted._

It’s an early night, and pretty subdued, even with everyone in the house. Scott orders a dozen pizzas, knowing it’s Stiles’ favorite. Peter watches his pack, proud of how they silently agreed to tonight’s movie, The Kingsman, another of Stiles’ favorite things.

The boy is quieter than normal, talking when he’s spoken to, but not starting any conversations. He does end up next to Peter on the couch, eventually falling asleep with his head on the alpha’s shoulder.

 

As everyone makes their way upstairs to go to bed, Peter catches the eye of one of his packmates.

“Everything okay, Peter?” Danny asks.

Peter nods and glances upstairs, checking that they’re being ignored. “Yes, mostly. It’s been a rough day.”

Danny nods. He doesn’t know the details, but Derek told Scott that Peter was going to try to get some details about Stiles’ history and Scott, of course, told Danny. “Can I do anything?”

“I think you can,” Peter says. “You can find where Stiles went to school in Phoenix, right?”

“Sure,” Danny says, nodding. “Umm, it was North Phoenix High, I think. What do you need?”

Peter wraps an arm around Danny’s shoulder and guides him into the kitchen. Smiling, he, “I’d like you to do a little research for me. I need some information. Confidentially, if you would. There’s a few people I’d like to track down.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When he lived in AZ, Stiles had a date with a boy he met online. Some of his high school classmates saw and took a picture of them and posted copies all around the school. Afterwards, some of the football team bully him and he's pushed down the stairs. There's homophobic slurs and Stiles internalizes a lot of it.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Andrew have a kind-of bonding moment. Peter plans a trip out of town. And there's finally kissing.

Andrew is used to Stiles having company, so the quiet voices in the kitchen don’t surprise him when he comes in one evening after work. He is a little surprised to see who’s in the kitchen.

“Hey, Dad, you’re home early,” Stiles says. He’s at the counter, doing something with vegetables. And standing at his shoulder is Peter.

“Yeah,” Andrew answers, rubbing a hand through his hair. He’s tired and whatever Stiles is doing smells great. “Tara came back from her leave early and told me to go home and see my kid.”

“Good, it’s nice that your deputies get to boss you around. Dinner’s not quite ready, but we’re having pot roast and mashed potatoes and gravy and roasted vegetables.” He turns and looks at Peter, and says, “How long ‘til dinner?”

“About 50 minutes from when you get the vegetables into the oven. Which shouldn’t take too long, I hope,” Peter answers, rolling his eyes. “Haven’t you ever peeled a carrot before?”

“We buy those little baby carrots, they’re already peeled.” Stiles looks at his dad and smiles, “So like an hour? You have time to take a shower and change clothes and stuff. Then a real good dinner. This is Peter’s recipe and I knew you’d like it when he made it for us.”

“Sure,” Andrew says, and scrubs a hand through his hair. He could use a shower, raising his arm to touch his head wasn’t completely pleasant. “Do you need my help with anything or should I….” he looks towards the stairs, hoping that he’ll get permission to leave.

“Nope, we’ve got it covered, go ahead. Take your time, we’ll call you when we’re ready to put things on the table.” Stiles smiles and holds up a vegetable. “Parsnips! We’re having parsnips! I didn’t know I liked them, but they’re good.” He turns around and goes back to peeling, with Peter standing next to him smiling.

“Great, parsnips. Okay, I’ll be down in a few.” Andrew sighs and takes one final look at the domestic scene in his kitchen before he goes upstairs to wash off the day.

 

Since there’s apparently no rush, Andrew takes his time, taking an extra long shower and he even runs the electric shaver to get rid of his five o’clock shadow. It’s not something he does often, but with the extra time, why not? And there’s the promise of gravy.

About forty minutes later, he comes down the stairs and stops to listen in to the conversation in the kitchen. Maybe it’s wrong and intrusive, but he’s only trying to protect his son and keep up on what’s happening.

“So this makes the gravy? You’re sure?” Stiles asks.

“Of course, I’m sure,” Peter answers, and to Andrew he sounds patient. “I’ve done it a million times. Now pour in the broth and keep stirring so you don’t get lumps. That’s right...”

“Can I help with anything?” Andrew comes into the kitchen, and Stiles turns to him, smiling. He looks happy and relaxed and while Andrew’s glad, he hates himself for the tiny bit that wishes his son wasn’t so happy with Peter there.

“Set the table? For three, because Peter’s staying,” he says, glaring at Peter. “Dad, tell him he has to stay, he helped me make dinner.”

Peter shakes his head, “No, that’s not necessary. I told you I’d help, you should have some time with your father. And stir around the edge before it scorches.”

“Dad, you’re the sheriff, order him to stay,” Stiles says, grinning at both of them.

“Peter, you’re welcome to stay. If you’d like.” That’s the best Andrew can do, and he’s only doing it because Stiles requested it.

Peter studies him, bright blue eyes unblinking. “If you’re certain, I’d be pleased to stay. I do have something I’d like to discuss with you.”

Andrew’s not looking forward to whatever this new topic might be; the last time he had a deep conversation with Peter, he was told his son was to be mated to the wolf. “Looking forward to it,” he lies, not caring that Peter probably knows.

Peter definitely knows and smiles slightly. “Thank you, Sheriff,” he responds with a quick nod.

Stiles rolls his eyes and says, “Dad, can get you get drinks out of the fridge and Peter, can you set the table? This is ready, I just need to put it on a platter.”

 

Dinner is excellent and Andrew takes advantage of Stiles’ good will and pride to stuff his face with red meat and buttery, creamy potatoes. Even the vegetables are good, all roasted until they’re tender and sweet. A beer along with dinner helps, too.

Peter has a beer as well, and Stiles has iced tea from a pitcher he must have made earlier. Stiles drives the conversation, asking about Andrew’s work and prying for details about a string of burglaries in the more affluent area of town.

As dinner ends, Peter finally turns to Andrew and says, “So I said, I wanted to talk with you and actually I have a favor to ask. I’ll be going out of town for a bit and Derek may be with me. I’m hoping you’ll be able to check in on the pack now and then.”

It’s a strange request and totally unexpected. “Me? I’m not in your pack and I’m not a wolf,” Andrew says.

“Stiles is pack and so that makes you pack as well. To participate as much or as little as you want.” Peter smiles at Stiles, seeing his sly grin. Yes, the boy wants this, he wants his father included and Peter’s glad for this opportunity to give it to him.

Andrew sees it as well, and scratches his head. “What do you need me to do? Do I need to actually sleep there?”

“No, you don’t need to, although you’re welcome to; there’s room.” Peter’s not overly fond of how the sheriff has handled his son (Peter’s mate, after all), and has no qualms using it to his advantage. “The only night the entire pack is over is Saturday and I expect I’ll be gone next Saturday night. I hope to leave next Wednesday and be pack on Sunday. If you could check on them Saturday evening and generally be around if they need anything while I’m gone, that would be very helpful.”

“Where are you going?” Stiles asks, fiddling with his empty glass of tea.

“I have to visit another pack, one we have a treaty with. They have a new second in command and it’s not uncommon to visit now and then, just to reestablish our bond.” Peter smiles at father and son and says, “It’ll just be a few days this time. I have another trip or two coming up after that. Checking with the alphas where our packmates will be going to college in the fall. Just making sure there won’t be any problems and that they’ll have support if needed.”

“So just drop by and be sure no one’s destroying the place?” Andrew asks, and his expression is as near to a smile as Peter’s seen – at least when it’s directed at him.

“That’ll do it; just so they know there’s an adult around if needed. Melissa McCall will probably also check in during the week. Do you know her, she works at the hospital?”

“Yeah, we’ve met a couple of times when someone’s needed to go to the ER,” Andrew says.

Peter says nothing about the sweet scent that comes from the older man. _Curiosity-interest-lust --_ that would be fine with him, something else to join his pack together and if he’s happy, he’ll be less intrusive about Stiles’ life. “That does make me think of the other thing I wanted to discuss – Stiles’ birthday is coming up soon, I think in about six weeks.”

“True,” Andrew says and his happy scent shuts down and turns to _anger-fear-distrust_. “He’ll be eighteen. Finally.”

“Yes and at that point, we’ll make the mating official. And while I do certainly think we should stick with that plan, I’m thinking that with my travel schedule, it might make sense that we keep our weekly schedule for the first month or so.” Peter looks from Andrew’s smug-but-suspicious expression to Stiles who just looks shocked.

Stiles looks at his father and asks, “Are you going to be gone that much? I mean, it’s okay, but I thought…”

“I think it sounds like a good idea,” Andrew answers quickly. “And if Peter needs to travel, why should you stay at the house alone? Frankly, if you’re not there on the weekends, maybe Stiles doesn’t need to be at the house while you’re gone.”

Peter smiles, carefully keeping his teeth from dropping. “While I might be gone a couple of weekends, the rest of the pack will be there. And everyone enjoys Stiles’ company, of course.” He pauses and looks at Andrew and then slowly says, “Stiles is pack. Pack is important. The pack is all at the house on Saturday night and so Stiles should be there as well.  Besides,” he says, smiling broadly, “Stiles’ Sunday brunches are becoming legendary. As you know, he’s an excellent cook and his skills would be missed.”

The topic of discussion looks from one alpha male to the other and exhales loudly. “Wow, kinda tense in here.” Peter smiles and his father just glares at him. “Dad, I’d like to keep with the schedule we have. I think having a routine’s been good for me. And I like hanging out with everyone, Saturday night is just dinner and a movie and it’s fun. I like it.”

“Well, it seems when he’s eighteen, he should be able to make some of his own decisions. Unless you intend to kick him out of the house completely,” Peter says, looking very concerned. “That would just be mean, not a good father at all.”

Andrew doesn’t say anything, but his face turns red when Stiles jumps in.

“Hey, both of you, cut it out. Dad, I’m going to keep on the same schedule as currently with the pack. I’ll be there Friday and Saturday night and maybe sometimes during the week, same as normal. Everyone agree?” Stiles asks, looking back and forth.

“Fine,” his father says, sighing loudly. “And let me know your schedule, Hale, and I’ll drop by and check on the other juveniles you have living with you.”

“Thank you, Sheriff. I think I should probably go now. Before I wear out my welcome.” Peter stands and holds a hand out to Stiles.

He looks surprised, but takes it, following Peter to the front door. Stiles checks over his shoulder and doesn’t see his father watching, which is a little surprising, but very welcome. “You’re a dick, you know that, don’t you? Can’t resist poking him a little.”

Peter shrugs and says, “I want what’s mine, that’s all.”

Stiles shakes his head and says, “Sometimes I think I’m starting to understand you and then I’m back to wondering what the hell you’re thinking.” He stops and tilts his head so Peter has plenty of room to scent him, feeling the brush of Peter’s neatly trimmed goatee on his neck. “I’ll see you Friday, right?”

Peter runs a finger down the side of Stiles’ neck and says, “As always, I’m looking forward to it.”

 

“Do you guys know anything about Peter meeting with other packs?” Stiles asks the group as they’re sitting together eating lunch in the cafeteria a couple of days later.

Scott shrugs and says, “He mentioned it. Something about meeting new pack members.”

“So are people going to come and visit us to meet you?” Erica asks, grinning. “The alpha’s new mate, that’s a big deal, Stiles.”

“I don’t know; Peter hasn’t told me.” Stiles eats the sandwich he packed, leftover chicken that Peter made. “I’m not even sure what needs to happen to make the mating thing official.”

“So really, no sex?” Allison asks. “I mean, I’m not prying or anything. Well, maybe I am, but…wouldn’t that be the way for it to happen?”

Stiles shrugs and shoves the remains of his lunch into his paper bag, appetite suddenly gone. “I don’t know. Like I said, I really don’t know. Peter said it doesn’t need to be sex and …” He scrubs a hand through his hair and shrugs again. “I guess I’ll just wait and see what happens.”

“But you like him, right? Like, like him like him?” Erica asks, much more quietly than normal. “Does he know that?”

“I don’t want to talk about this now,” Stiles says, shoving back in his chair. “And I need to get to class.”

“We’re in the same class, man,” Boyd calls after him. “You’re just running away!”

“He likes-likes him,” Erica says confidently.

 

On Friday night, Peter’s in his room trying to decide if he wants to take a shower tonight. Or maybe a bath. Or maybe just go to bed and do it all in the morning. He’s been making plans for his travel and it’s been mentally exhausting.

He can hear Stiles is also alone in his room. The electronic hum of the television, volume turned down low. His radio is on as well and Peter recognizes Nirvana. _I introduced him to that,_ Peter thinks with a smile. 

He tries not to eavesdrop, but the wall between his and Stiles room isn’t soundproofed and he hears Stiles walking around, pacing back and forth and mumbling. He thinks for a minute and makes his decision.

Peter knocks on the door in between their rooms and quietly says, “Stiles?” He waits a few seconds and knocks again.

Stiles opens the door and stands in front of it. “Hi? Is everything okay? Am I being too loud?”

“No, not at all. I just thought… Is everything okay? You seem a bit antsy tonight.” Peter glances at his chest, where his pulse is loud to the wolf’s ears. Then he steps back and waits.

“I’m okay.” Stiles smiles and steps aside. “Do you want to come in, maybe?”

He smells nervous and Peter sees his cheeks are attractively flushed. “I can, if you’d like. Do you want to talk about anything?”

Stiles virtually melts in front of him, pink cheeks turning red and his scent turns to embarrassment.  “Maybe,” he says and shrugs, looking towards the floor. “Here’s the thing…the thing is…”

“The thing is…” Peter repeats and smiles. “What’s the thing, Stiles?”

“Okay, so I know that when I turn eighteen, you’re not going to jump me or anything like that, right?”

Peter nods and says, “Right. I hope you know that I’d never force myself on you or anyone. Not for the bite and certainly not for sex. You’re my mate, Stiles, I’d never hurt you.”

Stiles nods and says, “I know, but say that…” He bites his lip and finally blurts out, “Let’s say that I wasn’t completely against the idea of sex. Of some type. Maybe. If you’re at all interested. Which you might not be...”

“If you’re interested. And after you’re eighteen because I know that’s important to your father. It’s certainly something we can discuss,” Peter answers, trying to keep from grinning. The boy looks away shyly and Peter takes the opportunity to step closer and take in a breath of his sweet, pleased scent.

“Okay, that’s good. That’s… Do you think maybe, we could try a kiss? Is that okay?” Stiles asks, looking at Peter from under his lashes.

It’s unfair, Peter thinks, how this young man fell into his life and now has him wrapped around his finger. “If you insist, but don’t tell your father,” Peter says, making sure Stiles knows that he’s teasing. He moves forward and puts a hand on Stiles’ hip and the other on his shoulder. They each take the final step and Stiles shuts his eyes as he leans into the kiss.

Peter keeps it light and soft, letting his tongue barely caress the boy’s lip. Stiles sighs and lets his mouth open, licking Peter’s tongue for just a second before he breaks away with a tiny whimper.

They stay in their embrace, Stiles with his eyes shut, resting his forehead on Peter’s. “When’s my birthday? It’s soon, isn’t it?”

“Soon, little fox.” Peter lets his head drop to Stiles shoulder, taking a deep sniff from his warm neck. “You don’t want to run anymore?”

Stiles runs his fingers though Peter’s hair and says, “I could do a lot worse. I think I can be happy here. With your pack and with you.”

Peter pulls away, and steps back towards his room, away from temptation. “I promise you, I’ll do everything I can to make sure of it.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew and Stiles talk and work things out a bit. Danny and Stiles have a heart-to-heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken me a bit to update, I have so many WIPs now! But here's an update.

Andrew isn’t sure what to expect when he gets to the house. He’s seen it, of course, having driven by to check on where his son will be living. But this is his first time inside and … it’s nice. Really nice and comfortable and looks lived in and ordinary. Unbelievably ordinary. It’s hard for him to keep up his assumption that it’s a torture den when he walks in the front door and the living room is crowded with teenagers rough housing on the couch, yelling at the television while playing some video game. For a moment, his heart catches, thinking this is what Claudia had wanted – a house full of kids, a house full of life and noise.

He stops when he realizes the noise has stopped and everyone’s looking at him. There’s concern on their faces and Erica glances at his chest and says, “Mr. Stilinski, are you okay?”

He clears his throat and smiles, answering, “Fine, I’m fine, Erica. Everyone, hello.”

There’s nods and smiles, and ‘hellos’ from around the room, although there’s still odd looks on some faces. He turns when he hears familiar thundering down the stairs and suddenly Stiles is in front of him, worry on his face.

“Hey, Dad, come on in. You okay?” he asks, giving his father the once-over. He doesn’t have werewolf senses, but he does know his father.

Andrew pulls him into a half-hug and says, “Yeah, just thought I’d stop by, I hope that’s okay. That is what Peter wanted, right?”

“Sure,” Stiles replies, shrugging. “You can stop by any time, this weekend or otherwise. Really. Melissa’s here, Scott’s Mom? You know her, right?”

“Yes, we’ve met at the hospital a couple of times,” he answers, looking over Stiles’ shoulder at all the teens. “Do you all have a plan for dinner? Should we order something?”

“I got it covered, Andrew,” Melissa says coming out from the kitchen. “We’re having take-out Chinese tonight and tomorrow they can eat pizza until they blow up.” She shrugs, pushing curls off her forehead. “It’s not the healthiest option, but it’s probably better for them to eat it now than when they’re our age, right?”

Andrew smiles at Stiles and says, “So maybe I should stay for dinner?”

“Sure, there’s at least a couple of dishes heavy on the veggies. You want a tour before dinner arrives?”

“I’d like that, yes,” he says, looking around the room and moving to follow Stiles who heads for the kitchen.

Melissa hooks a hand around his arm and pulls him close for a second, whispering, “And there’s a couple of order of barbequed ribs as well.”

He pats her hand on his arm and smiles at her as he catches up to his son.

 

“And so this is my room.” Stiles leads the way in and sits in his desk chair while his father looks around.

“Um hm,” he says. The room looks lived in, books and papers scattered around, plugs for electronics in the walls. Some of Stiles’ clothes are tossed over the back of the chair and John notices some pictures hanging on the wall that he didn’t realize had migrated from home to here.

“Just like in the pictures I’ve shown you and when we’re talking on the phone.”

“Yeah, just like it,” Andrew says, studying everything. “And that’s Peter’s room?” he asks, pointing to the door leading to his room.

“Yup, just like I told you.” Stiles gets up and paces around the room, all nervous energy. “It’s all like I’ve told you, Dad. Really, it’s okay here and I’m okay. Better than okay, in fact.”

“I guess so. I mean, I can see it, it’s certainly better for you here than Arizona.” Andrew scrubs a hand through his hair and says, “That was a mistake, and I can’t apologize enough for moving us there and…”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for, Dad, it seemed like the right place at the time. No one knew what would happen there.”  He sits on the edge of his bed and watches as his father sits on the chair by the desk. They sit and look at each other for a moment, and Stiles thinks about the gulf between them. “There’s rooms here, spare rooms, if you want to spend the night. Melissa does sometime. You know, if you want.”

“Thanks, but I have to work tomorrow,” Andrew replies quickly. It’s true, but he probably wouldn’t anyway. It just seems too strange.  

Stiles is about to get up, ready to end the grand tour and go back downstairs when Andrew clears his throat. “But I am off on Sunday. I was thinking, if you want, maybe we could go hit a couple of buckets of balls? There’s a driving range just outside the city here, my deputies told me about it. We used to do that in Phoenix, or at least a couple of times, if you wanted to..." his voice trails off, not sure where to take this.

“Smacking around some golf balls?” he asks, grinning. “Yeah, I could do that. I make brunch for everyone Sunday morning, if you want to eat here or we could do it afterwards. Sounds like fun, we haven’t done that for a while.” His father is good at golf; Stiles isn’t patient enough, but he does like hitting the ball as hard as possible. It’s one sport he’s actually okay at.

“Good, that sounds good. I’ll let you know about brunch, kind of depends on work Saturday night…”

“Sure, Sunday’s your day to sleep in. Probably better for you and I’d make you eat dry toast and scrambled egg whites anyway. But afterwards…”

He smiles and says, “Yeah, sounds good. I need to get some practice in, the deputies told me there’s a competition each year between the Sheriff’s office and the Fire Department each September. And apparently, I’m expected to play.”

Stiles tries not to laugh, knowing how competitive his father is. “Is it a charity competition?”

Andrew nods. “Yes, it’s for the county foodbank. Maybe you’ll be able to come by and root for law and order?”

The foodbank was always one of his mother’s favorite charities. “I’ll try. Let me know what weekend it is and if I can manage it with classes, you know I’ll be there. Berkeley isn’t that far.”

“Berkeley?” Andrew asks, looking confused. “Did I know that?”

It’s Stiles’ turn to look confused and he says, “Yes, I think you do. Did. I told you that I got in a couple of weeks ago.”

“You did? I don’t remember, I would have expected to remember, maybe some jumping up and down or something,” Andrew answers. It’s his turn to walk around the small room, looking at Stiles with his head cocked.

“I thought I did. I’m pretty sure I did, I would tell you first, before I told…well, I know I told Peter and the pack.” He looks at Andrew, and tries to remember when he told his father, because he’s sure he did. He knows he did, he remembers a hug.

Andrew sits next to him on the bed and sighs. “I’m sure you did, I’m sorry, it must have slipped my mind. Congratulations anyway, kiddo, even if I’m late saying it.” He snorts and shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t know. I’ve just been…I’ve been such a disappointing father, I don’t know what happened.”

“You’re not!” Stiles exclaims, turning towards him, grabbing his arm. “You’re not a bad father or a disappointment or anything like that. I mean, I know I’m a tough kid for a person to try to raise. I’m a shifter and I’m gay and both of those together would be hard for anyone.”

“No, Stiles, listen to me,” Andrew says, putting his hands on Stiles’ shoulders. “You aren’t any of the bad things you seem to think you are. I knew your Mom was a shifter and knew you might be, too. And that was never a problem, ever. And neither is your being gay. That’s just a fact and I’ve known that for a long time. Your mother and I talked about it when you were in what? First grade maybe? There’s nothing wrong with that or difficult about that or anything you might think. Nothing wrong with either of those things. Nothing wrong with you.”

“It would have been easier if I was only one or the other,” Stiles answers, ducking his head.

Andrew shakes his head and sighs. “No, no, not at all. I’m not sure what happened or where I went wrong. I mean, after your mom died, I know I went off the rails for a while and maybe that’s when you decided that you can’t always trust me and now you’re cozying up here and looking at Peter and…”

“Whoa, wait. Yes, you took mom’s death hard and that’s to be expected. But you got it back together and you’ve been a good dad. But please don’t think that I’m looking at Peter as a father substitute, because I hate to break it to you, but that’s not even close. At all, Dad.” He waits and makes sure his father is looking at him and says, “Believe me, I do not think of him in any type of paternal way. Do you need me to elaborate?”

Andrew shakes his head and blows out a breath before he says, “No. No, I’ve got it, message received.”

“Man, we’re really a mess, aren’t we?” Stiles asks, nudging his father’s shoulder with his own. “We both want to blame ourselves for what might be problems, and telling each other that there’s no problems that we didn’t create ourselves.”

“Yup. So what are we going to do about this?” Andrew asks, putting his arm around Stiles’ shoulder.

“We’re going to…give ourselves a break and try to remember that we’re both doing the best we can? God, that sounds so kindergarten,” Stiles whines and rests his head on his father’s shoulder. “But, that’s it, right. Universal forgiveness and all that crap?”

Andrew chuckles and kisses Stiles’ head. “Maybe that’s it. Try at least. And I’ll try to understand this thing with the pack here that you keep saying you like.”

Stiles snuggles into his father’s embrace, rubbing his face on his shoulder, scent marking him like the pack does. “And not blame yourself because I like it here, okay? It doesn’t mean I don’t love you or don’t want to see you, but I’m good here, okay?”

“Okay. So hey, do you want to go and wail on a bucket of golf balls on Sunday?”

Sitting up with a smile, Stiles nods and says, “Yeah, that sounds good. Use up some energy hitting things with clubs. My kind of sport.”

Andrew chuckles and says, “And if you get bored, you can shift and I’ll bash the balls and you can chase them. You used to like that.”

“I remember being chased around a golf course by a guy whose ball I stole,” Stiles says, smiling at the memory. “You had to distract him while I ran away.” He stands and gestures to the door. “Come on, the food’ll be here soon. We order a ton, but these guys eat a ton, so you can’t be slow.”

“Melissa promised me ribs, so I hope that means she’s putting some aside for me,” Andrew says as they leave the bedroom.

“Ribs? Just a couple, Dad,” he says, as they walk down the stairs into the noise of the kitchen, smelling the spicy food that’s being set out on the table. “I’m going to have to keep an eye out for you and Melissa, aren’t I?”

 

Stiles gets back to the pack house late Sunday afternoon to pick up his laptop and books for school on Monday. It’s probably a step forward that his father dropped him off with a wave so Stiles can drive himself home in the jeep, and didn’t feel he had to wait.

Stiles rubs his neck carefully, feeling the start of a sunburn. Their day together went great, one of the most enjoyable days Stiles can remember that didn’t involve the pack. Certainly one of the best days he’s spent with his father for as long as he can remember. Picked up after breakfast with the pack and a couple of hours spent walloping on golf balls. Then a bit of time practicing putting, which Stiles is absolutely awful at, as his father points out several times. A long lunch at the club, talking about classes Stiles thinks he’ll be taking at Berkeley, and how he may be living with Isaac and Scott.

Andrew shares some information on his recent cases, nothing too grim or confidential, but it’s something they haven’t done for a while. Stiles probably didn’t help any, but he knows it helps his dad to talk things through.

Of course, there were a couple of awkward moments, but they managed to avoid dragging them out or throwing themselves on the bomb, so good for both of them. Andrew asked just a few questions about the pack and about Peter and Stiles provided a couple of stories and kept his more x-rated thoughts to himself.

Stiles is packing up the last of his homework when there’s a knock on his open door and Danny enters. “Hey, Stiles, do you have a minute?”

“Sure, Danny,” he answers. Danny’s looking around the room as though he’s never seen it before, not quite meeting his eyes. “Didn’t expect to see you here so late. You don’t usually come by on Sundays, do you?”

“No, I wanted to talk with you. Okay if I sit?” he asks, gesturing towards the desk chair.

“Sure,” Stiles says, shrugging. He’s trying not to smile, but he’s got a good idea what’s coming from Danny with his sharp mind and unfairly hot looks. Not that he’s interested in him at all, but it doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy looking.

Danny pauses, apparently getting his thoughts together before he says, “You know where Peter and Derek are this week?”

“Oregon,” Stiles states, firmly. “Visiting an allied pack.”

“Oregon. Around Salem someplace, by Willamette University, where one of your former classmates is? Stiles…”

Stiles smiles and spends a moment watching Danny squirming. “If he’s there, it’s an interesting coincidence, isn’t it? Kind of like how it’s an interesting coincidence that my former classmate drowned Friday night.”

“He did?  How do you know that?” Danny gasps.

“The internet, Danny, everything’s on the internet. And don’t worry, I checked it at the public library and there’s nothing on my laptop or phone.” He pats his backpack and says, “I’m careful, I know what I’m doing. And don’t worry about Peter and Derek either. There’s no trail. They both left their phones at home; Peter got them disposables. And they drove in Peter’s car, so there’s no plane tickets or car rental. Everything’s paid in cash, they aren’t using the electronic bridge toll thingy. They’re careful.”

“You know all this. You know all about this.” Danny slides down in the chair, staring at Stiles.

Stiles shrugs. “Peter’s my alpha and my mate and he’s protecting me. I mean, I know I’m new to how packs work, but I think that’s part of it, right? Protecting your pack mates.” He smiles and flashes his eyes. “And how I’ll protect him and you guys as well. I’m the alpha’s mate and I’ll do anything for all of you.”

Danny leans forward in his chair and shakes his head. “What is he protecting you from now, Stiles? You’re not near them, you’re safe. What he’s doing, it’s…it’s not like it’s going to help your PTSD.”

“I don’t know, I think it will. I feel better now, knowing that Robbie’s gone. And knowing that Peter’s going to be visiting a pack in Massachusetts, Southern California and a couple places in Arizona.” He smiles and picks up his back pack, putting it over his shoulder.

“And what do you mean about you protecting the pack? Do you have your own hit list?”

“Oh, Danny, don’t be melodramatic. It’s not a list, not really. More like a post-it note. And you don’t need to worry, because you’re pack. But you know what they say for others, right? Never trust a fox,” he smiles and flashes his golden eyes at his handsome pack mate. “By the way, you do know how to clean your laptop, right? I mean really so that your history is gone?”

Danny nods and says, “Yeah, of course. I already did that a couple of times.”

“Good, I figured you did. And you know, if you’re not comfortable with your phone, just toss it. Peter won’t have a problem getting you a new one.” He passes Danny on his way out the door, patting him on the shoulder, trading scents after a long day away from home. “He’ll do whatever’s needed. ‘Cause he’s the alpha and you’re pack. And one thing I know is that pack takes care of their own.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from an old folk song, apparently from the 15th century. I just remember it from childhood. Here's a nice version if you're interested.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1i4dvmKhuP8
> 
> Come say hello on Tumblr. Over there I'm Rebakitt3n.


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